


The Gift Of The River

by persimonne



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Actual Goth Prince Kylo Ren, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, Badass Rey, Birth Control, Bisexual Kylo Ren, Blood, Blood and Violence, Body Modification, Captivity, Chronic Illness, Cranial Deformations, Death, Dry Humping, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Frottage, Goth Rose, Grave Robbers, Headaches & Migraines, Historical Inaccuracy, Identity Reveal, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Masturbation in Bathroom, Menstruation, Middle Ages, Name-Calling, No Pregnancy, Only One Straw Pallet, Oral Sex, Rey is 16, Roman Finn, Secret Identity, Swearing, Swords, Underage Sex, Vaginal Fingering, War, background finnrose - Freeform, kylo is 26, mention of anal sex, mention of drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26697778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persimonne/pseuds/persimonne
Summary: The young Reymund disguises herself as a boy to escape her arranged marriage to the fearsome Goth prince Benwulf. After leaving her hometown, she meets the mysterious Goth knight Kaelo bathing in a river; there's a bounty on his long, long head, and he doesn't trust Rey, keeping her very close to him while traveling West.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 180
Kudos: 235
Collections: Queerly Beloved Reylo Fics, To Rapture the Earth and the Seas: the 2020 Reylo Fanfiction Anthology





	1. The Groom

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a Medieval AU since forever and my beta Lindsey and the RFFA Mods Victoria and Viv made this possible. Thank you so much for the help and the support!
> 
> Disclaimer: I’m not a medievalist! My main sources about Goths in Italy are the archaeological ones, so, I would be glad to head your opinion if you’re a medievalist or a Migration Period expert! <3  
> I tried to not fall in the usual stereotypes still circling around these terribly interesting tribes that settled in Italy after the fall of the western Roman Empire, while still trying to depict the colorful melting-pot of people and costumes present in the crossroads that was the Mediterranean area during the Early Middle Age. We had people of all ethnicities and origins here, for several centuries, and they helped shape Italy into what it is now.  
> So, forgive me if there are inaccuracies <3 Concrit is welcome, and mind the tags!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Italian Peninsula, 535 AD. The Byzantine Army invades Sicily. During the following lustrum the Byzantines mow their path towards north killing and pillaging: they arrive in Ravenna in 540, and after capturing the Ostrogoth Aristocracy of the Capitol, they take control of northeastern Italy.  
> Prince Benwulf, one of the most likely candidates to become king, decides to hide instead of capitulating under Belisarius and leaves Ravenna after a year of home confinement, with his father’s grey horse Falcon and his grandfather’s skull, wandering in the swamps formed by the Padus river and its mouth.  
> The orphan Reydegond, last scion of an impoverished Goth family from Verona, after bleeding for the first time decides to run away before her impending marriage with her betrothed Benwulf, during the siege of her hometown in 541.  
> During her flight, while impersonating a young boy named Reymund, she meets a mysterious and fascinating knight bathing in the Padus river: Kaelo. After a short skirmish, she becomes his prisoner. Despite the rough beginning of this relationship, Rey will soon develop feelings for him, even after having sworn to not want anything to do with men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Prince Benwulf here, and his awful temperament.

Ravenna, 541 A.D. 

Autumn

Prince Benwulf combed his dark locks away from his forehead, his fingers following the elongated shape of his skull. Concentrating, he tried to call for his late grandfather’s presence, but the old man’s voice, now that he needed it the most, was silent. He blinked once, then twice as a migraine began to bloom behind his eyelids — he should have been used to being in pain by now, but every new headache was like a new ordeal for him. He looked at his mother, Princess Leja, standing in front of him: she was old, tired, and stubborn. He saw himself in her.

“My answer is no,” he said, pinching the bridge of his prominent nose, trying to push the pain back. “I already have a betrothed. Please, don’t insist.”

It was true: when Benwulf was a child, his family had to settle a debt with the son of an old rival of his grandfather with gold and livestock. This man had thrown his newborn daughter — Reydegond — into the deal, to free himself of a burden and to wring more money from Leja when the girl would have been mature enough to marry. The settlement then transformed into a bridesprice: Benwulf had never seen that girl in his life, but he’d already used her as an excuse to refuse several suitors. Now that Ravenna had fallen under Byzantium, and this Reydegond was approaching a more marriageable age, Ben had already concocted a plan to abandon everyone and leave for Ticinum, or Mediolanum, or even cross the Alps, living as a knight of fortune like his grandfather before him. Maybe he was a simpleton, but he wanted to marry for love, never for convenience.

“Your betrothed is nothing but an orphan girl, she will not grant you any ties with Byzantium. She will grant you nothing at all,” the old princess said. “Lady Bazene is a princess, Belisarius’ cousin, and she’s almost your age. You could still rule one day, thanks to her.”

The prince sighed, “I’m tired, Mother. How did we reduce ourselves to this?”

“I’m simply trying to save what I love, Ben. We could still provide compensation for that poor girl, even if you’re not going to marry her. Her parents died, as you know, she’s alone with her tutor.”

“If you loved me you’d let me alone. I never wanted to marry, nor to become king, and you know it. But I’m lucky to still have my betrothal to Reydegond, so I can refuse Lady Bazene’s proposal without offending her, putting everyone — and you — in danger.”

The woman approached Benwulf, taking his hand. “I knew you were stubborn, but not to this extent.”

“You made me like this,” he said, trying to smile despite the pain. “Now I need to rest, my head is bothering me again.”

Leja exited the room, her sad gaze never leaving her son’s tired face.

+++

When Ben woke up hours later, it was already dark outside, and his migraine was still there, pounding behind his skull. His sleep had been fitful, without any trace of his grandfather, but plagued by dreams of a faceless warrior that attacked him with his ancestor’s sword. He thought to ask his mother if she knew what the dream could mean, but he had no time to waste: he needed to leave the court as soon as possible, taking advantage of the moonless night. He quickly donned his clothes, and collected a few of his belongings in a leather bag, discarding anything that could be useless. He didn’t need fancy clothes in the swamps.

“I’m coming to get you,” he whispered. “Grandfather.”

Upon exiting the palace, Ben took a lamp, a shovel, and an axe with him, and loaded his luggage on his late father’s grey mare, Falcon. She was neither young, nor trustworthy, but she was fast; he couldn’t ask for a better companion for his race towards freedom. He quickly put the shovel to use in the small cemetery behind the palace’s chapel: his grandfather’s burial was right in the middle of the yard, surrounded by his horses’ burials and highlighted by a rectangle of stones.

He dug, hoping that no one would see him: luckily, the pit wasn’t too deep, and he soon unearthed the wooden coffin containing his grandfather's mortal remains. He opened its western side with the help of his axe, unriveting its top, his heart trying to burst out of his chest and his migraine abating momentarily when he finally was able to give form to the voice he’d always heard in his head since he was a child.

His grandfather’s skeleton was there, in front of him, still dressed with a rich, yet threadbare vest and displaying the jewelry most appropriate so his status as a prince. Nowadays, it was forbidden to bury the dead with such goods, but Ben had never cared too much about Christ or the religions practiced by Romans. He jolted as his trembling fingers touched his grandfather’s head, even more elongated than his own. He closed his eyes, trying to connect with the voice in his mind, but a sudden noise coming from the palace prompted him to seize the skull and run away. Luckily Falcon hadn’t wandered too far from him, and she quickly brought him to the gates of Ravenna, and after the gates, to the neverending swamps, the landscape of his new life as an errant knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artificial cranial deformation was really popular amongst many people on Earth since the Neolithic Era. It needed to be done in early childhood, using bandages and sometimes pieces of wood, even. In Europe it was popular amongst the so-called East Germanic tribes that used to move around in Late Antiquity, probably brought from Huns, and it was probably meant to indicate social status. Boys and girls were equally subjected to this practice, depending on the tribe.
> 
> Mod Viv from the RFFA made a beautiful moodboard for the story!


	2. The Bride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's meet our Reydegond!
> 
> Please read the tags: she lives in an abusive situation with her tutor Plautus.

Verona, 541 A.D.

Winter.

When Rey woke up her belly was cramping, and her thighs were sticky with blood. It wasn’t the first time she’d bled in her life, but this time, the linen sheets bore the proof of her still extremely irregular cycle. She got up as silently as possible — waking her tutor, Plautus, would mean the end of her freedom — and took the stained sheet with her to the kitchens. Descending the stairs slowly, without any lamp, she slowly perused the small room and found a bucket of water in a corner. After bringing it in front of the window, she began rubbing the fabric between her fingertips, checking under the feeble moonlight if the stain was still there or not. 

It was still there, and at that moment, Plautus decided to descend the stairs, his heavy steps announcing his ominous presence. Rey tried to squeeze the water out of the sheet, but the light of her tutor’s lamp caught her before she could hide the bundle of fabric. 

“What are you doing here,” he asked, his querulous lips shining with spit.

He was hefty, pale, sweaty, and not a single hair bothered his body. Sometimes, Rey wondered how he could be so fat since they were so poor, and she could eat only once a day. She needed to hide her blood from him, or he would send a letter to Ravenna, to her betrothed, Prince Benwulf. Marrying would be her end, and she needed to convince Plautus that her body was broken, that she couldn’t be a desirable bride for the Prince. 

“I— I couldn’t sleep,” she said, her voice trembling.

“What are you doing with that bucket,” he continued. “Did you pee yourself, huh?”

Rey nodded, but Plautus approached her nonetheless, fishing the wrinkled fabric from her hands. She should have brought her sword with her, to finally free herself of him. She hated him. He’d promised her parents to take care of her like a daughter, to protect and guide her in their absence, but he’d only behaved like a jailer so far. His only preoccupation was to sell her like cattle. She was tired of being his prisoner.

“This looks a bit dark to be piss. Did you bleed, little cunt?”

Rey lowered her gaze in shame and anger. Plautus laughed, he laughed so hard that his whole belly rippled in front of her, as if someone had thrown a stone in water.

“About time,” he exclaimed, throwing the wet sheet at her. “I’m going to write to your prince straight away, so he can come here, pay the dower, and free me of this burden.”

Rey began to cry silently, hoping that he wouldn’t hear her. She didn’t need to be humiliated further.

“That perfumed ponce never called the betrothal off despite your tardiness. I just hope he’ll pay handsomely for you. Your parents would be proud.” He smirked. “Pity that they’re not here anymore, and I’ll be the one to wave my hand when you’ll leave this house.”

 _And you’ll be the one to enjoy the prince’s gold,_ she thought, grinding her teeth.

  
  


+++

  
  


Rey spent the following days curled in bed crying and being miserable. As if the sky could hear her, an insistent and bothersome rain began to fall — winter was finally beginning to bite — robbing her of the chance to train with her beloved sword, the only secret she’d been able to keep from her tutor, so far.

She unsheathed the weapon, admiring its leather and bronze handle and the shiny, long iron blade. If only she could sneak in Plautus’ room, and sink the sword in his round, soft belly as he napped, ripping it in half and finally discovering what kinds of delicacies he was keeping from her. He had written to her betrothed; she saw a young boy leave the house on horse, bringing the deed of sale of her body to Ravenna, to the prince. Her life as she knew it was quickly coming to an end.

Rey had never seen her betrothed. She knew he was older than her — ten years older at least — and he lived in the Capital, at King Witige’s court. It lay at the mouth of the river, in a land full of swamps and quick, silvery eels. They had a river in Verona, but it was surely small compared to the endless lagoons of the Adriatic sea she’d only heard about. She tried to imagine a life in a court, surrounded by noblemen and women, dressed in purple and gold and wearing crowns on their elongated heads. 

She had never left Verona, and to be honest, she’d almost never left the house she shared with Plautus. Only her weekly meetings with Lady Holdovitha, an older woman with indigo coloured hair who trained her in the art of the sword under the guise of teaching her how to weave, permitted her to be free of her tutor. But her swordmaster had returned to her people beyond the Alps several months before, leaving her alone again. 

Rey's family hadn’t been particularly wealthy after her grandfather’s death, and upon her birth, she’d been promised to the prince. She knew that her bridegroom’s family had given animals and gold to hers — gold that she’d never seen since her parents left when she was five, and Plautus greedily took everything. She was alone with her tutor now, and after bleeding, not even her body was hers anymore. She should have left with Lady Holdo, but, hoping to see her parents again, she’d declined the woman’s offer.

Night was approaching. Rey could hear Plautus moving downstairs, and a feminine voice giggling. They didn’t have servants since they couldn’t afford to feed another mouth, so he could only have called for a prostitute. She shuddered, uncomfortable, thinking about the poor girl crushed under her tutor’s smelly weight. She forced herself to put her blade away, and willed herself to sleep. 

She dreamt of Prince Benwulf: he was enormous, fully armoured, with a menacing helmet covering his features. She was tied up on a table in front of him, unable to move, heavy leather belts restraining her hands, her waist, and her feet. He didn’t touch her in the dream; he was crouched, unmoving in front of her. She spat at him then, calling him a monster, but when he finally reached to remove his helmet, she woke up.

It was still dark, and she heard noises all around her. A horn blew from the streets below the house, and there was a loud commotion coming from downstairs. She ran to the window, her heart racing: there was an orange light on the horizon as if there were fires over the city walls. Someone in the street cried out, someone else shouted something unintelligible, and soon she heard Plautus’ heavy steps on the stairs.

“Reydegond,” he panted, sweaty as usual, reeking of sex and sweat.

Rey’s worry grew: he never used her name. She’d always been “You”, “Child”, and “Little Cunt” to him. Besides, despite his odour, he was fully dressed, with a voluminous bundle hanging from his shoulders, like a makeshift backpack, as though he was making ready to leave for a long trip.

“We’re under siege,” he continued. “We need to leave town. Now.”

Rey’s stomach fell. “The… Byzantine army is here?”

Plautus nodded. “Hurry up. Take only your clothes, we will try to reach Ravenna. I’ll bring you to the prince myself.”

Rey’s head began to spin, her mind running to her absent parents, but she managed to gather her hair in three buns on the back of her head and throw part of her meager belongings in a leather bag. She took the training clothes she’d sewn herself, her only good pair of boots, her sword, and nothing else.

“What’s in there?” Plautus asked then, nodding towards the long lump in her bag.

“My distaff.”

“You won’t have the time for that, move that flat ass of yours. I don’t want to die before Prince Benwulf pays the dower!”

Rey took her bag, arranged a woolen cape around her shoulders, and followed her tutor outside. People were swarming the streets — some of them swearing, others crying — and he closed his hand around her wrist in a grip as strong as a vice. She thought about kicking him between his legs and making a run for the city gates on her own, never to come back; but the crowd quickly closed around them, pushing them in a single direction, towards a hilltop right beyond one of the main gates. 

Plautus never left her side, not even when it was clear that he was the one slowing her down as they followed their peers climbing the hilltop. Once they reached its summit, he even removed his belt, securing it around her wrist. Rey avoided his gaze, squeezing the comforting weight of her bag against her ribs, looking at her breath quickly transforming in a white fog. The hill stank of sadness and despair, now. Everyone was crying around her, her townsmen desperate to have lost another homeland, and she let herself go as well — her tears caused by her future, more than the siege. Without her family, Verona was not and had never been home to her, but a prison. 

And if there was a time to free herself in this commotion, it would be now. She needed to act quickly. Her parents would understand her wanting to leave Plautus once for all. Noises of battle came from within the walls: metal on metal, people crying, chanting, a fire or two began shining over the slick roofs. If Plautus would disappear during this attack, no one would bother looking for him — how many people were dying under the Byzantines’ blades?

“I need to go behind a bush,” she finally stated, her heart beating wildly against her ribcage.

Plautus grunted. “You should have thought about this earlier. Just piss where you are, no one would notice.” 

“I don’t need to pee,” she seethed. “I’m still bleeding.”

“Very well, but be quick,” he spat, extending his arm towards a crop of trees. “Silly cunt.”

Rey led the way, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and the crowd, walking slowly between the trees. She stopped only after Plautus grunted his displeasure, and finally extracted her bag from under her cape. She knew what she had to do, she only needed to gather the courage to finally do it: she’d always hoped things would change for her, even if her family had left her, so she just passed her whole life waiting — for what, she didn’t even know. But now, the town under siege and her body sold to a husband she’d never seen, she had to do something, anything to finally free herself from her invisible chains. It was time to act.

“C— Can you turn around?” she asked feebly. “Please.”

“Bah,” Plautus answered, strangely complying. “Like there was anything interesting to see, you look like a boy.”

Luckily his belt was long enough for Rey to remove her cape, crouch down and open her bag. She clenched her hands when they began trembling too much, slowly unfolding her sword from the rags in which she’d hidden it. Trying to breathe deeply, she weighted the blade in her palm, thinking about the best way to finally strike Plautus, hoping that a single stab would be enough to kill him on the spot, without too much fuss.

“Well?” he spurred her. “It’s cold here.”

“I’ve almost finished,” she trembled, moving slowly behind his back. 

Plautus was distracted, trying to pull a cuticle with his nails. Rey aligned the point of her sword with his back, between his left hip and his ribs, as Lady Holdo had explained to her, and pushed upwards with all her strength. Plautus jolted, trying to scream, but his lungs were already filled with blood, so he just gurgled, still impaled on Rey’s blade. She tried to remove it, but he fell on his back, bringing her with him on the ground.

“My God,” she squeaked, squeezing her eyes shut as her tutor’s enormous body pinned her down, still moving and spasming.

Slowly, she finally managed to extricate herself from his writhing limbs, and, grunting, she turned him on his stomach. Pointing a foot in the middle of his back, she pulled the sword out of his dying flesh, and warm blood gushed from his wound, staining the dark, cold ground. Heart thundering, Rey turned towards the town. The sky was dark again, and no one was coming in her direction. She disrobed quickly, donning her training clothes and fastening her tunic with Plautus’ belt. Instead of hiding her sword again, she cleaned it with her nightgown, and put both her bag and her late tutor’s bundle on her shoulders. It was heavy, hopefully containing some gold. 

Legs trembling, Rey kept walking amongst the trees, distancing herself as much as possible from Plautus’ corpse: the morning was coming, and anyone could find his body now. She walked until she met the Athesis river, following its shores until she reached the stone bridge in front of the theatre, built there by the Romans before her people settled in the dilapidated ruins of the old city.

Rey stopped in the middle of the bridge, looking down at the greenish and sparkling waters of the river. It was flowing, slowly and peaceful, unbothered by centuries of skirmishes between men happening on its shores. Behind her there was her hometown, now under siege; on the other side of the bridge, there was her freedom. She only needed to take her first step towards it. She unsheathed her sword, bringing it to her nape, and one by one, her three buns fell on the cold stones of the pavement. She collected them, and extending her arm, she let the breeze disperse them, over the slow, green water. Tears falling, she thought about her parents for the last time. These were her first steps: the following steps would bring her south of Verona, along the course of the river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Rey didn’t know was that her fellow townsmen returned home a couple of hours after her departure, since the Byzantine contingent that attacked Verona was only composed by a handful of men, easily defeated by the Goths still present in town. When this happened, she was already walking south, convinced that her hometown was now lost forever. Verona will remain Ostrogoth until 561 A.D.
> 
> Amongst many Germanic tribes such as the Langobards, there wasn’t a dowry, but a bridesprice, paid before the marriage, and a dower, paid right after. It was the bridegroom’s family that had to pay, and Rey’s father exploited Leja’s good heart, selling her his daughter just to have a second helping of money and livestock. I don’t know if this was the case amongst Ostrogoths as well, but it made sense for the plot.


	3. Just a Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey makes a new friend, but she has to leave her too soon. On her way west, she meets someone special.

_Forum Allieni,_ 541 — 542 A.D.

Winter.

Rey walked in the cold of the countryside for two days and a night before giving in and seeking shelter in a small chapel. There, she curled up in a corner and cried herself to sleep. There were small settlements all along the Athesis’ course, but no one answered her when she knocked on the humble huts’ doors, asking for shelter and a bit of cheese or soup, not even in exchange for Plautus’ gold. Honestly, seeing the current situation, she couldn’t blame anyone if they chose to be cautious with strangers: Verona had fallen under the enemy, and bands of soldiers, mercenaries, and desperate people were roaming the fields all around the old city.

Rey didn’t expect the countryside to be so cold. It was a kind of humid, freezing sensation that tightened around her bones like a vice, leaving her whole body shivering even if it was covered by her woolen cape. She forced herself to close her eyes, after drying her tears with her sleeve, but sleep came only after several hours. When she woke up, she jolted, since there was something heavy on her: a nice, warm sheepskin, big enough to cover her shivering body. 

She quickly sat upright, as a friendly, elder voice greeted her.

“Good morning, young lady,” an old woman said. “I hope the pelt helped, yes?”

Rey observed the person in front of her: she’d never seen a woman so tiny before. Her skin was dark and wrinkled like she’d spent her whole life working outside, under the sun. Her eyes were small and round. Rey touched her now short hair — it was difficult to get used to it, after years of buns — wondering how this woman knew she was a girl, and not an unfledged lad.

“Thank you,” Rey answered. “I — I can pay for the pelt, Madam.”

“There is no need. Where are you from?”

Rey thought about telling the old woman the truth, but she quickly reconsidered, shrugging.

“My name is Martia, but I’m known as Maz,” she answered unbothered by Rey’s shrug, smiling sweetly at her. “I don’t live far from here. It looks like you need a place where to stay, at least until spring? Am I wrong?”

Rey nodded quietly. “I thought I could travel south on foot, but it’s so cold!”

“I may need a hand or two at my _taberna,_ ” Maz explained. “I already have several helpers, but they’re… not so reliable. I need another woman to take matters into her own hands.”

Rey’s nostrils flared. “A _taberna_? Here in the country?”

Maz nodded. “We make our own beer, and we have a lot of cabbages to harvest at the moment.”

“I will come, but on one condition,” Rey answered. “Don’t tell anyone that I’m a girl.”

Maz smiled, nodding. “Are you hiding?”

“From my betrothed.”

“I understand,” the old woman said, winking. “I’ve been married four times.”

+++

Rey, now under disguise, learned a lot of new things while remaining at Maz’s. She liked the old woman: she was wise, witty, and never questioned Rey’s choice to not tell her anything about her previous life, things she deeply appreciated. On the contrary, Rey had been curious towards her host, and Maz had patiently told her story to the young girl.

She lived on her grandparents' farm. They had been a Roman couple that had retired in the countryside after her grandfather became a veteran and produced a whole array of edible goods. But, after the quick and unavoidable decline of the Empire, Maz found herself lacking the manpower to maintain the farm in working order, so she found herself forced to transform it into a _taberna,_ a simple place where travelers could rest, eat something warm and drink a good beer. It lay right before the crossroad between the Via Postumia and Via Claudia Augusta, the two main routes connecting the Alpine Region with the two seas surrounding Italy.

Rey never worked so hard, nor slept so tight, without nightmares plaguing her rest, without the image of her parents leaving her tormenting her at night. Maz tasked her with beer preparation, work that required constant vigilance but that also left Rey a lot of free time to exercise. She also helped Maz’s collaborators with the harvest; she read and even spun — not Rey's favourite occupation, but keeping her hands busy helped her to not think about the letter sent by Plautus to Prince Benwulf. But there was no news from Ravenna, and so far, no one had discovered that she wasn’t the boy she said to be. And if someone had started calling her Reymund instead of Rey, who was she to correct them?

But one day, as she was serving the first batch of beer for the new year, someone from Ravenna came in, asking to drink and rest _._ They were Byzantine soldiers, working at the court, and Rey tried to eavesdrop on their animated discussion. It was the first time someone from the south came to the _taberna_ — the usual customers were scoundrels, and lately, there had been many Frank and Burgund mercenaries since Byzantium was trying to make as many alliances as possible. She’d told no one that she was from Verona, and she’d asked no one about her birth town, minding her own business, her family only a faint scar on her heart. But news from the capital was too juicy to not be listened to.

After a few beers, the two men started gossiping about other characters living at the Royal palace, finally naming Prince Benwulf. Rey’s heart skipped a beat. She started cleaning the table right behind the two men — even if it wasn’t dirty — catching that her betrothed had refused to marry a beautiful and wealthy princess named _Basin_ or something similar, refusing to marry a relative of Belisarius himself because he was already betrothed to a nameless girl from Verona. Now he’d apparently left the court to look for her.

Her head dizzy, she fell on the ground, her legs unable to bear her weight.

+++

“Thank God!” Maz exclaimed when Rey opened her eyes. 

She was in her sleeping chamber on her pallet, a woolen blanket covering her body, her old friend at her side.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened,” she lied. 

“You fell down like a sack of turnips, and I had to ask those soldiers to bring you here. You’re heavy, and I’m old.”

Rey cleared her throat. “Maz, I can’t stay here anymore, my betrothed is looking for me. We’re too close to Verona, I can’t sleep at night knowing that he could come here as those two soldiers did.

Maz nodded. “I understand. Do you already know where to go?”

“I’ll go west. People say that Ticinum and Mediolanum are safe at the moment.”

“Those places are quite far from here. I could give you a horse, my child,” the old woman said. 

Rey shook her head. “I can walk fast, and traveling on foot will be easier. Spring is already here, I won’t risk freezing to death anymore.”

Maz hugged her tightly. “I’ll miss you dearly. But the belonging you seek is not here, it’s ahead of you,” she said, her voice almost broken. “Travel south-west, but don’t follow the main route, Via Claudia, walk through the woods, it will be safer. You’ll find the Padus river near a town called Hostilia. Follow it, travel upstream, it will bring you where you need to go.”

+++

Leaving Maz’s was somehow more difficult than leaving Verona. While the latter was the place tied to her parents — and unfortunately, to Plautus as well — Maz had been the one person save for Lady Holdo that treated Rey like she was family, even if they weren’t related by blood. They shed tears together during the night, and in the morning, the old woman filled her with food for her journey. Rey began the walk south-west, her chin held high, never turning back, as warm, painful tears streaked her cheeks. 

There weren’t many people traveling on the Via Claudia, but she remained out of the road nonetheless, walking amongst the fields and the trees. Hostilia wasn’t far from Forum Allieni; she reached the settlement in the early afternoon and explored the town a bit. The Padus river was right there, cutting the settlement in two halves connected by a tall bridge, used by people to fish. 

Wondering where this waterway would bring her, she looked down, marveling at its size: she’d never seen a river so large, and so slow: its greyish water was lazily traveling east, and fish of every size were swimming right under the surface. Exchanging a couple of words with the nearest fisherman, she discovered that a young woman whose husband had recently died needed help to milk her flock of sheep, so she went to her house, helped her, and got a warm meal and a clean pallet for the night. If her host discovered that Rey wasn’t the boy she said to be, she didn’t tell anyone.

The following day Rey left Hostilia at dawn, following the Padus course, the sun shining on her back. After walking for almost an hour, she met an old, gray mare nibbling on grass. Pausing, Rey wondered where her owner was; the horse was harnessed and saddled, quite richly even.

“What are you doing here, all alone?” she asked the horse.

The beast came closer, sniffling Rey’s face. She took the harness in her hands, but the beast shook her head, coiling it around the loose sleeve of Rey’s tunic. 

“Don’t move, it got twis— Hey!”

The mare started waking. Rey tried to free her tunic from the harness but there wasn’t much she could do while the animal was moving, save for disrobing herself in the middle of the road, showing any potential witness the binding she was using to make her chest look even flatter. She tried to tug on the harness to stop the horse, but she got the opposite reaction: somehow, it decided that galloping while having someone tied to them could be a great idea, and Rey could only start running if she didn’t want to fall on her face and get dragged through thorns and gravel.

“Hey! Where are you going?” she cried. “Stop! Stop!”

The horse kept dragging Rey until they reached the shore. She avoided a tree at the last second before the beast finally halted, distracted by something — by someone — bathing a few feet from them, in the shallow, light grey waters of the river.

Panting for breath, Rey lifted her gaze and met a pale, broad back, its owner splashing himself with water. The man in front of her was enormous, his muscles rippling under the morning sun. She’d never seen a naked man before — once she would have guessed she wasn’t really interested, but this one looked almost like a Roman statue, and she couldn’t take her eyes off of his skin, nor from his black, shiny hair, twisting over his neck and reflecting the light of the morning sun. He was beautiful.

When he turned towards her, she downright gasped. Mercifully, the lower part of his body was still submerged, or her face would have probably caught fire. Her cheeks were already red, and she felt a bit dizzy as well. His back to the river, he started splashing water under his armpits: her eyes roamed over his broad chest, his muscled arms, and ended on his head. He had a pointy, sombre face barely covered by a short, soft beard and moustache, while his wet, long hair lay plastered against his forehead and his definitely elongated skull — a bit too long to belong to a Roman. He was a Goth like her, and an important one nonetheless. 

The horse neighed, and the man’s gaze lifted, catching Rey next to the animal. They looked at each other, surprised, and she tried to free herself, fiddling with the reins.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Leave my horse alone!”

Rey panicked. Cold sweat coated her back, and her armpits began prickling. She tried again to quickly uncoil the leather strap from her sleeve, but the man had deduced that she wanted to steal his insubordinate animal, and he got out of the water. Rey’s eyes got captured by his groin and his powerful thighs as he reached her in a handful of long strides, splashing water everywhere, and she didn’t even protest when he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at his face instead of everywhere else.

“Well? Never seen a naked man take a bath before?” he quipped, thumb almost stroking her lower lip.

“I— I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t want to pry,” she stammered. “Didn’t notice you there.”

“So you thought stealing my horse was a good idea? I should gut you straight away.”

“No! Please,” she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. “I didn’t want to steal your horse, I met it alongside the trail up there. I called it to me and the reins got stuck. Please, Sir.”

He took a look at her arm then, freeing her torn sleeve from the reins with a quick motion. Rey beamed at him, and he simply stood there, naked, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then she remembered: nothing was pointing out that she was a girl in disguise, so the stranger was only behaving like he would have behaved in front of another man.

“Well,” he finally said. “Horse or not, you’ve seen my head. I’m sorry, but I need to gut you nonetheless.”

Rey tried to escape, but he was quicker, catching her by her waist, immobilizing her against him as he retrieved a sword from behind a tree, lifting her like she weighed nothing. He was wet, his skin cold, and she shuddered thinking that this was the first time any man besides Plautus had touched her, and it was to kill her, just because she’d seen his head. She’d yet to have any interactions with a man that wasn’t steeped in violence; how was she supposed to accept to marry one of those cruel, sadistic beings?

“Sir,” she said. “Sir, I beg of you. I’m a Goth as well, I really don’t care if you’re a prince, nor a commander, nor the son of the late king himself, I won’t tell anyone I’ve seen you here. Let me go.”

“Can’t trust you, kid,” the man replied, tightening his grip on her. “You’ll kill me and bring my body to Belisarius.”

“I— I couldn’t care less about Belisarius!” Rey spat back, her eyes pleading to the knight to spare her. “You can trust me. Please, Sir, I’ll come with you, but please, don’t kill me!”

The man slowly put the sword back, his eyes never leaving Rey’s. “All right,” he said cautiously, daring a wink. “I won’t kill you, that would be a waste. What’s your name?”

Was that a compliment? Rey felt her cheeks blush, and the warmth traveling through her limbs — a new, unexpected sensation — made her almost forget how the man had been ready to kill her only a moment before. But still, she was grateful that her proposal had been enough to make him change his mind: her life as a free person had just begun, but she couldn’t let her pride hinder that.

“Rey,“ she gulped. “My name is Rey.”

He put her on her feet, keeping both her wrists in one of his hands. Rey’s body lamented the loss of warmth, her now wet clothes becoming icy as the man looked for his belt and secured her hands with it, and proceeded to tie said belt to his horse’s saddle. He confiscated her sword as well, putting it alongside his, against a tree, and her mind raced to Plautus’ corpse, rotting in that wood, and to her parents leaving her for no apparent reason.

She briefly wondered if things would have gone differently if the knight had known she was a girl, but she kept her mouth shut: Reydegond had mysteriously disappeared during Verona’s siege after all. There was just Rey, now, a boy. She turned towards the knight, promptly lowering her gaze again when she noticed that instead of covering himself, he’d decided to go back on the shore and wash his clothes, still completely naked. She shouldn’t let his attractiveness cloud her judgment.

“Where are you directed?” she asked, her cheeks still red. “Sir?”

“I’m crossing the Alps,” he answered, rubbing vigorously something that should have been white, once. “Going where the Byzantines won’t dare.”

“You can’t go north, Verona fell right before the winter,” she blurted, too late to notice she’d outed her provenience. 

“How would you know that? Last thing I knew, Verona was still ours. Are you from there?”

Rey gulped. “I’m from nowhere,” she said, indicating the flat landscape surrounding them. “I was trying to cross the Alps and join my fencing master, but I quickly reconsidered after what happened there.”

In reality, Rey hadn’t heard much from her birthplace during her stay at Maz’s, too scared to ask news from soldiers and vendors. But even if Verona was Goth again, Prince Benwulf was probably headed there to look for her, so she needed to stay away from that place at any cost. Even in the unlikely event of her parents coming back.

“Then I’ll go west. I’ll follow the river instead of the road,” the knight said, exiting the water and putting his wet clothes on a rock to dry. “And you’ll come with me. I’ll free you only once we’ll reach a place where people hate Belisarius as much as me.”

Rey was more or less comfortable with his plan — minus the captivity part. She tried to not look at him as he approached the horse, opening a bag containing clean clothes, but it was almost impossible, his almost feline movements mesmerizing. His hair was almost dry now, framing his harsh features with soft waves, the shape of his head not as evident as before. But when he clothed himself again, he still hid under a hood. 

“What’s going on with your head? Is there a ransom on it?”

“I’ve lived alone for the whole winter at the mouth of the river, between the swamps and the salt flats, it’s full of soldiers there. Was. Let’s say that… Belisarius himself is willing to pay a good sum to see me dead.”

Rey shuddered. Then she thought that right under the mouth of the river there was Ravenna, the birthplace of Prince Benwulf, and she shuddered even more. Being held captive by this man was not ideal, but it was surely better than being married to her betrothed. She imagined herself not tied to a horse, but held inside four walls, with a man she’d never seen before demanding things from her that would have made her die inside long before death could finally free her. Accompanying the stranger in his travel looked way more attractive, now.

The knight continued his tale, mercifully distracting her from her dark thoughts. “I’m from... Ariminum. My family was killed by Byzantine soldiers last year, I’ve killed a bunch of them back. Now they want my head as a trophy.”

“That’s why you wear the hood?” 

He nodded.

“What’s your name?” Rey asked.

“Kaelo”, he answered, and she almost laughed in his face.

“That’s not a Goth name!” she exclaimed, making him puff his cheeks in annoyance, and card his fingers through his hair until the hood fell. Many Goths — like Plautus — fancied themselves a brand new Roman name, but Kaelo wasn’t even a proper name for a person, it was the name of the sky, and the thought almost made her smile.

“Goth or Roman, my fate is already written if we don’t move. This— ” he exclaimed, pointing at his head with a finger. “This is like a giant beacon. They know what they’re looking for, there aren’t many aristocrats wandering these swamps, killing Byzantine soldiers.”

Rey braced herself. She would adapt to the situation, as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapel where Rey sleeps and Maz’s taberna are located around Forum Allieni, a small settlement about 40 kilometers (27 Roman miles) south of Verona. Rey walked a lot! She is so cold because during those years the temperature plummeted, during the so-called Late Antique Little Ice Age, probably caused by volcanic eruptions in Central America.
> 
> The Via Claudia Augusta was an important road connecting Italy (starting right in Hostilia!) and southern Germany, through the Brenner pass. It still exists, and it’s greatly appreciated by bikers and tourists. The Via Postumia is another route that traverses northern Italy, from Genoa to Aquileia, running parallel to the biggest river.


	4. Waterway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Kaelo get no know each other, sharing their food, their bed, and fighting.

Padus River, 542 A.D. 

Spring.

Rey was not used to traveling by horse, and the fact that she was still tied up and sitting in front of Kaelo wasn’t helping in the slightest. As he’d announced, they were not following the main road, but the river. The horse didn’t seem used to moving on uneven terrain. She often bumped into the man’s chest, or arms, or thighs, feeling every muscle, sinew, and tendon under her. Kaelo didn’t seem to notice that small detail — or he didn’t care — but Rey’s breath hitched every time the old horse swayed while walking on the huge pebbles of the shore. 

The Padus was slow, its greyish waters running lazily past them. This was the second time that Rey was kept prisoner, and she already dreaded the moment she would need to hide behind a bush to pee, or worse. Counting the days in her mind, she quickly realized that her monthly cycle was approaching — it became more regular after her permanence at Maz’s — and she shuddered at the thought. There was no way she could hide that from Kaelo: she needed to free herself and get away from him, first despite having been the one to suggest traveling together in the first place. 

“Stop squirming,” he admonished her. 

“Or what?” she bit back. “Have you changed your mind about killing me?”

“No. I’m going to spank you.”

Rey’s cheeks erupted in flames. She was glad Kaelo couldn’t see her face and his threat was more than enough to make her yield to the horse’s movement, plastering herself to her captor’s front and let herself relax — if that was even possible — against his chest. The fact that she’d seen him in all his naked glory in the morning didn’t help for sure, and her blush bloomed anew on her cheekbones. She reddened, even more, when he slithered an arm around her waist, to keep her steady, giving her a sense of security she quickly chased off. But his body was warm, and the shore began to be more regular, with fewer pebbles, so she fell asleep.

When Rey woke up it was already late afternoon. Despite the swaying of the horse, she felt comfortable and safe, a pleasant, hazy warmth surrounding her: Kaelo was still hugging her with an arm around her waist. He’d transferred the reins in his left hand, fisted against her hip, and he was using the right one to press something against his forehead. Turning around, she saw that it was a metal canteen, and he was keeping his eyes closed, brow furrowed.

“What are you doing?” she croaked, berating herself for not minding his touch.

“My head hurts,” he slurred. “Let’s stop for a bit.”

“Is that because of your skull?”

He nodded but didn’t elaborate. 

“You know, you’re the first person I’ve ever seen with an elongated head — not many noblemen in the countryside, I guess — but I thought it wasn’t meant to be painful?” she babbled. “I mean, I know it was traditional until a few decades ago.”

“My mother didn’t want to subject me to this right after I was born. She began binding my head too late, pressured by her brother, and now I’m paying the consequences of her inanity.”

Rey nodded, pondering on what to do next. She could maybe take advantage of his migraine and try to escape? Traveling by horse was indeed less fatiguing, but she would have preferred to walk instead of being kept on a leash by the knight.

“Nature calls,” she said. “I don’t want you near me while I pee. Free my wrists.”

Kaelo sighed, dismounting from the horse and picking her up from under the armpits. Rey stiffened, hoping that he wouldn’t notice her breast binding, quickly finding feet on the sand. He rummaged in one of the bags hanging from the saddle, emerging with a rope and securing it around her left wrist with a very complicated knot. Rey would need something sharp to cut it that she didn’t have — he still had her sword — so her escape plan died before even seeing the light.

“Nature calls,” he mocked her, finally freeing her hands from his belt. “Pick your bush, I’ll stay here.”

Rey huffed, massaging her sore wrists and walking as far from him as the rope let her. She relieved herself behind a huge trunk, so he couldn’t tell if she was peeing while crouching or standing. Luckily, he was distracted, so she seized the moment to purge her bowels as well, cleaned herself with two huge and soft leaves, hid the waste under pebbles, and moved behind another trunk to better observe her captor. 

After tying the other end of the rope to a tree, Kaelo refilled his flask in the river, washed his face, and promptly sought shelter in the shadow, amongst the trees. He sat on the ground, closed his eyes, and pushed the flask against his forehead again. For a moment Rey pitied him. He never asked for his head to get bound, and now he was suffering the consequences of that. But, even if in pain, he still chose to be an arrogant asshole, so Rey decided that he didn’t deserve her kindness, after all.

“Serves you right,” she scoffed.

“It’s better if we stop here for the night,” he announced when she joined him. “Are you hungry? We can share my food.”

He looked pale and there were bags under his eyes, highlighting his angular features. At his offering, Rey’s heart almost skipped a beat, her mind running to Plautus and to how much he’d made her starve while she was living with him. Was Kaelo being generous only to prevent her from trying to escape? She couldn’t trust him, and she shouldn’t let her guard down for a shriveled pear and a crust of bread.

“I have something to eat as well. It’s in the bag you took from me this morning,” she announced to show him that there was no need to be kind to her.

Kaelo got up, untying Rey’s rope from the tree and securing it to his wrist. He took bread, cheese, and fruit from the horse, and picked some dried wood from the ground, to light a small fire. They sat down to eat then, and when they finished, he tugged on the rope until she almost ended on his lap, making her squeak in surprise. Her heart beating wildly, she tried to scramble away from him, but he was too strong, so she found herself between his arms another time, wiggling to free herself. She huffed: they weren’t on the horse, there was no need to initiate any physical contact anymore.

“Stop squirming!” he tried to explain. “We’ll sleep now. Together.”

“What?” Rey cried, her voice echoing in the woods.

“No, not like that,” he laughed. “Unless you want it, of course?”

“Never! Let me go at once!” she shouted, her face so red that she felt dizzy.

“I won’t, you’ll sleep next to me. Can’t let you wander while I’m unconscious.”

Rey sighed, slumping against him. Why was he so stubborn? She’d already given him her word, she wasn’t going to kill him, nor she wasn’t going to escape. 

“Tie the horse far from us then, so I can’t reach her if you’re so afraid of me trying something against you.

“I won’t. Falcon likes to wander around.”

“Well, maybe I’d like to wander around too!” Rey huffed. “Nice to know where your priorities lie. With a horse.”

He laughed. “My horse doesn’t have hands, and she won’t try to kill me — or at least, I hope not.”

Positioning some rolled-up clothes on the ground to use as a cushion, he gestured to her to lie down. The fire was still warm, but the ground was cold, and the humidity of the river almost unbearable. She began to wonder if he was going to stay awake and stoke the fire, but he anticipated her, plastering himself against her back, covering their bodies with a heavy woolen cape. 

Rey stiffened at the contact, but the accommodation revealed itself to be quite cozy in the end, and she soon relaxed against his warm, comfortable body. It was only to avoid catching a cold, after all, and she closed her eyes, basking in Kaelo’s warmth. 

“Good night,” he sighed against her hair, his tone pained.

She’d already forgotten about his migraine.

“How’s your head?” she asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

“It will be better tomorrow morning. Sleep usually helps.”

“Is it an everyday occurrence?”

“Almost. Let’s say that it’s more common for me to be in pain than the contrary.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Sleep now.”

Kaelo’s left arm slithered around Rey’s waist, like during the afternoon, while they were riding. His warmth helped her shut her mind off, and her heart calmed down, despite having tried to escape from her ribcage only a second before. She fell asleep in a few minutes, warmer and more satiated than she’d ever been. 

+++

Troops traveling through the road, heading east, woke them up at dawn. Thankfully, the trees were an ideal shelter for them, and Falcon had lowered herself amidst the bushes for the night, so the Byzantine soldiers didn’t notice their small campsite between the paved road and the shore. Upon waking up amidst all that noise, Rey couldn’t help tensing up, but Kaelo’s arm around her waist grounded her, and she barely restrained herself from turning between his arms and going back to sleep.

Unfortunately, he decided that it was the perfect time to get up and leave camp before they risked stumbling into more troops, leaving her alone on the cold ground. Rey bundled herself up in the cape, trying to absorb as much warmth as possible, but he soon poked her, putting dried figs and a slice of hard cheese under her nose.

They ate in silence, and after they finished Kaelo removed his clothes in front of Rey, making her blush again. She pretended to be too busy to chew on her fig to notice him, but her gaze fell on his back as he walked towards the water to wash — luckily the rope linking them was long enough to let Rey finish her breakfast in peace. But that calm was short-lived.

“Kid!” he called her once she finished eating, tugging on the rope and walking in the shallow waters. “You should wash, we won’t stop again until dusk.”

“Shit,” she murmured, getting on her feet and following him. 

Was he trying to pull her in the river while still clothed?

“I don’t feel comfortable disrobing in front of a stranger!” she told him from the trees. “I’ll wash tonight.”

“You wouldn’t want to jump in the water when it’s dark. It’s extremely easy to step on rocks, or roots, or who knows what. You’ll wash now with me, and you’ll do as I say since we’ll sleep together every night until we’ll reach Mediolanum or some other civilized place.”

Rey gulped, and Kaelo tugged at the rope with strength, making her tumble in the water under her with a shriek. Closing her eyes, she impacted frontally with the water, splashing everywhere and moving her limbs frantically as her body sank miserably.

“I ca— I can’t swim!” she panted as she tried to keep her head afloat, and he quickly ran towards her, picking her up from the water and squeezing her against his chest.

She threw her arms around his neck, trembling. Luckily, she hadn’t inhaled water. Was it worry for her in his eyes? Rey observed them carefully, they were almost golden in the morning sunlight. He took a couple of steps around, probing the sandy bottom of the river with his feet.

“You were drowning in a  _ gradus _ of water,” he stated. 

“Well, I was scared! I thought I was dying!” she cried, punching his chest.

“I’m sorry kid, I thought you knew how to swim,” he said, picking her up and bringing her to the shore. “I won’t do that again, I swear.”

Rey sat down, on the sand, crying, and Kaelo sat beside her, patting her shoulders. But seeing that she kept weeping, he hugged her tightly until she stopped, his naked body warming her up again.

“If I have to wash I’ll need to know you won’t look at me,” she spat through unshed tears.

“I don’t get that, but I won’t look at you, I swear.”

Rey rubbed at her eyes, hoping it was enough to stop her tears. “As you can’t trust me to not run away from you, I can’t trust you from not snooping on me.”

“Look, there is a trunk caught between two rocks down there,” he said, indicating a place several feet upstream. “You can go there to wash, away from my eyes. In any case, if I said I won’t look at you I’ll keep my word.”

“Could you— could you check if the water is shallow enough down there?” Rey asked, her heart beating so fast that her chest hurt.

Kaelo didn’t answer, but he got on his feet and began walking towards the trunk. The rope wasn’t long enough for Rey to keep sitting on the shore, so she followed him.

“It looks like you can stand comfortably,” Kaelo said once she reached him. “The current isn’t strong there.”

They switched positions, Rey behind the trunk and Kaelo a few steps downstream from her. He gave her his shoulders, and never turned in her direction for the whole time. Rey washed hastily, scrubbing her clothes as well with a small bar of soap he'd given her, and quickly exited the river, hiding behind Falcon to bind her chest and dress. Luckily the rope was long enough. She stuffed a pair of woolen socks in her clean leggings to better hide the fact that she was a girl. They didn’t have the time to wait for their wet clothes to dry, so she tied them up to the saddle, hoping that the sun would be hot enough during the morning. 

Kaelo exited the water right at that moment, walking with complete impunity towards the horse, his hard, pebbled nipples catching Rey’s attention. He truly didn’t care about wandering around naked, did he? Rey pretended to be busy with her own clothes but she stole glances from time to time towards him, as he was drying himself. Was he going to make her wash every damn morning in the cold river waters? What if she was going to drown for good just because he didn’t want to smell her armpits while they slept together? His aristocratic upbringing was showing.

Soon, he donned his clothes, hood included, and they were ready to travel further west. He helped her mount, settling himself behind her as usual, his strong arm embracing her from behind. The rope linking them had been rolled up and positioned in front of her, hanging from the saddle, and Falcon began walking slowly amongst the pebbles and the sand.

They kept silent for the whole morning, following the shore and hiding behind trees when they heard noises coming from the nearby road. Unfortunately, as they could see the horses accompanying the troops heading east, Falcon’s light grey coat could easily be spotted amongst the trees. Kaelo was cautious during their movements, and he often commanded the mare to wade into the water. At one point, Rey removed her boots: there was no reason to keep them on if they continued forcing the poor Falcon to take baths.

“Why is she called Falcon? She’s a horse,” Rey pointed out. 

She didn’t want to talk to Kaelo, to be frank, but she didn’t want to fall asleep either.

“She was already called Falcon when my father won her at dice from a friend of his. We never asked why, to be honest, and I haven’t seen this person for years. He… We aren’t kin, but he used to treat me as his own nephew. Unlike my own parents, he cared about me.”

His comment hit a bit too close to home, making her stomach plummet. “You don’t love your family?” she asked, amazed.

“I guess I do,” He shrugged. “But they cared about me only to use me as a tool since I was little. They arranged my marriage, with a stranger. I ran away.”

“Oh,” Rey whispered, biting her tongue before telling him that they had something in common, after all.

“I’ve always envied normal people. People like you, people that can just decide what to do with their own life. I wasn’t even granted a marriage for love, and when I had the chance to abandon my betrothed I seized it. I'd rather live alone in a swamp.”

Rey bit her tongue. What did he know about her? Nothing, and yet he’d made the wrongest assumption, thinking that she’d had a choice in anything during her life! She’d been promised to a stranger exactly like him, and she’d had to kill and leave her hometown to pursue freedom, like he had to do. And yet, she couldn’t find any sympathy in her heart for what Kaelo had done to his betrothed: what if she was in danger to marry someone worse than him, now? Someone like Prince Benwulf?

“Y— you don’t know anything about me!” she exclaimed, her tone piqued.

Kaelo put a hand on her mouth since there still were people on the road, and Rey bit his palm in retaliation. He didn’t seem phased by the pain she was inflicting on him. When he removed the hand, Rey, angrier than ever, continued her tirade, whispering bitterly at him.

“You don’t know how much shit I had to swallow before meeting you and swallowing even more shit! Don’t you dare tell me that my life has been easy, or other noble nonsense only a sheltered brat like you can conceive! You might even be the King of the Amals himself, and I wouldn’t care, because you’re only a spoiled child! You even abandoned a poor girl that was waiting for you? I’m not surprised that your first thought was to— to eliminate me! You— you’re a monster.”

Horses neighed down the road, and Kaelo’s hand returned over Rey’s mouth.

“Yes, I am,” he whispered.

+++

They kept traveling west, rationing their food, and avoiding the main road. Rey refused to talk to Kaelo since their discussion, so he mainly spoke to himself, and sometimes to Falcon too, narrating his actions like he was narrating the fabled  _ res gestae _ of a proud commander. He kept silent only when his migraines hit him, usually in the afternoon, and if he managed to draw some tired smiles from Rey, he never pointed that out. Luckily, nothing major happened during those days, save for her silently refusing to sleep next to Kaelo again, shivering not far from him, on the cold, hard ground. If she found his cape draped over her every morning, she never acknowledged it. 

On the third day after their discussion, she found a horrible, long skull in one of Kaelo’s bags as she was looking for bread. He patiently explained to her that it was his grandfather’s head, and it had talked to him since he was little. Rey commented that Kaelo’s head was having worse problems than regular migraines then, if he could hear voices, so he got offended, but instead of shouting at her, he took his sword and began destroying all the underbushes on his path, Rey trailing awkwardly behind him. She prayed that he would accidentally cut the rope that was keeping them linked, letting her free. 

A few hours after his outburst of rage, on the third night, while they were laying back to back on the ground, shivering, Kaelo told her he was sorry.

“You’re right, I don’t know you and I shouldn’t have assumed your life has been easier than mine. Forgive me, I won’t do that again.”

Rey sighed. 

“I would love to know you better if you’d let me,” he continued.

She detected no malice in his voice.

“Would you have said the same things if I were a woman?” she blurted out instead of answering him.

Kaelo took a whole minute before replying. “I don’t think so. No, I wouldn’t.”

Rey shivered again, but she felt something tugging at her tunic: it was him of course, holding an olive branch to her in the form of his warm cape. She slithered under it, burrowing herself against him, and he quickly enveloped her between his arms. He was as warm as a furnace, and she could feel his heartbeat under her ear, lulling her to sleep.

“I barely remember my parents,” she finally whispered in the darkness. “They left me when I was little, with a man that hated me. He kept me prisoner until I killed him with my sword.”

If Kaelo’s lips touched her forehead, she didn’t protest, falling asleep with her nose buried against his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gradus is 2,5 feet, around 74 centimeters.


	5. Treason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey learns how to swim, and she also learns The Truth™ about her traveling companion.

Padus River, around Cremona, 542 A.D. 

Spring.

In the evening, Rey and Kaelo reached a dilapidated settlement with a river port. The place was swarming with Byzantine soldiers, but also with Franks, Burgunds, and who knew who else, making him antsy and worried. He stopped Falcon right before some fishermen could see them emerging from the woods, returning on their steps for a couple of miles until they were out of sight.

“We’re in the shit,” he declared, dismounting from the horse and promptly helping Rey abandon the saddle as well. 

“I could go into town and see how it's hanging,” she proposed, hopeful.

“Ha!” he exclaimed, tugging on the rope still linking them. “This place is full of Belisarius’ men, I bet that even the fields surrounding this town are full of soldiers.”

Rey huffed. “Tell me your plan then, oh mighty Lord!”

“There are no bridges in sight. We’ll reach the opposite shore. It looks like you’re learning how to swim tomorrow.”

“What?” She exclaimed. “No way! I’m going to drown!”

“I would never let that happen!”

“Well, trust is a double-edged sword! If you can’t trust me to go to town and return, I surely can’t trust you to not let me drown.”

“But I like you, and I could never let someone I like die,” he admitted candidly, making her blush furiously.

She still couldn’t understand if he was serious or not; it wasn’t the first time he’d paid her compliments, even if, officially, she was a boy in his eyes. Was he one of those men uninterested in women? He’d mentioned he’d been betrothed, and he’d abandoned that girl without thinking twice. The thought that he liked her, even while she’d always been objectively unattractive made her heart beat faster, and heat spread through all her limbs. Would he be as interested in her if he knew she was a girl?

“Let’s stop here for the night,” he declared, cutting a couple of shoots from a nearby tree. “Tomorrow we’ll try to reach the other shore. I can see something in the middle of the water, if we’re lucky it’s an island, and it will make our wading easier.”

Rey huffed, sitting on a trunk and waiting as Kaelo started their usual small fire. They ate in silence, her mind focusing on what they were going to try the following day. She was worried about swimming, and she couldn’t help worry about Kaelo teaching her.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Everything will go well.”

Rey hugged her knees, avoiding his gaze.

“I won’t let the river take you away from me. I— I like traveling with you.”

“I don’t,” she spat back, immediately berating herself. “I would surely like it if you’d let me free. I have already given you my word that I won’t kill you.”

He sighed. “Learn how to swim, and I’ll cut the rope after we reach the other shore. We’re close enough to Mediolanum, I guess.”

Rey trembled in excitement. “Swear it. Swear it on that skull you keep in your bag.”

“I swear on my Grandfather’s head,” he declared. “I’ll free you. You’re welcome to keep traveling with me if you want.”

Rey nodded, and soon tears filled her eyes, all the tension she’d accumulated in the last days leaving her body at once. She cried, hiding her face in her hands, as Kaelo reached her to sit in front of her, taking her hands in his, drying her tears. He kissed her forehead then, his lips soft against her cold skin. Rey shivered under his touch, and he embraced her, his warm hands entwining with the short hair at the nape of her neck, tickling her scalp, making her drowsy.

They remained embraced for what felt like seconds, or hours, Rey wasn’t sure. At one point, Kaelo’s fingers wandered down her neck, and he left the tiniest peck land right under her ear, making her shiver. She didn’t hate that — on the contrary, her body answered to his touch in a dangerous, hungry way, and she berated herself for not having been more guarded with him. But he was slowly crawling under her skin, and she couldn’t do anything to stop that feeling that pushed her to desire his touch above everything else, the rope keeping her tied like she was cattle quickly forgotten.

“This could be our last night together. If you— If you want to,” he whispered, “I could give you pleasure. You wouldn’t even need to disrobe yourself.”

Rey felt her whole body burn all of a sudden, making Kaelo laugh against her forehead, his lips kissing her now blushing face.

“I— I— ” she stammered, her throat impossibly dry and something deeper tingling through her spine. “I— I don’t know— ”

He caressed her jawline, his fingertips impossibly soft against her skin. “Don’t worry,” he answered. It was already dark, but Rey could see his eyes shining in the dark. “We don’t have to do anything right now if you don’t want to. It was just— just a suggestion, let’s say. You know that I like you.”

Rey’s heart thundering behind her ribcage, she could only bring herself to nod, and he smothered her into a new hug, pushing her on the ground and covering their bodies with the cape. Rey snuggled against him, her body still off-balance from what he’d proposed to her, sleep almost impossible to chase now.

“Tell me about your betrothed,” she blurted out, hoping that she would cool down hearing about her.

“There isn’t much to say, I’ve never met her,” he confessed. “My mother arranged everything when we were children.”

This was the only thing they had in common: Rey and Prince Benwulf had been promised to one another by their parents as well, without meeting even once while adults.

Kaelo continued. “I only know her name and her age, and where she lives, but that isn’t much to happily marry someone, in my opinion.”

“How old are you?” Rey asked him, curious; she’d tried to guess his age already, but it had been impossible: sometimes he looked like a child, sometimes his eyes seemed too old to belong to a human being altogether. 

“I’m almost twenty-six years old,” he answered. “You?”

Rey blinked. She’d always thought about that age as something too distant from her, almost alien. Everyone over twenty looked old to her, but Kaelo was, somehow, different.

“I’m sixteen.” 

“I knew you were young,” he whispered. “You can’t even grow a beard.”

“You can’t grow a beard either,” she replied, her heart beating faster.

“Shut up, my beard is mighty and full, and luscious,” he announced, scratching his chin. “A veritable warrior’s beard.”

They both laughed. Maybe keeping traveling with him wasn't a bad idea, after all.

“Aren’t you curious?” she prodded again. “About your betrothed.”

“Not really. I can’t miss something I’ve never experienced,” Kaelo said, and Rey nodded: she didn’t want anything to do with her own betrothed, after all. His feelings were uncontroversial. “Freedom and marriages can’t coexist, in my opinion… If I had to choose between a wife and a travel companion such as yourself, I would choose the latter without blinking an eye.”

Rey blushed again, burrowing her nose in his neck. His words made her feel so warm, and wanted, and she wanted him too, in a way that she’d never felt before. Shyly, she let her hand slowly roam over his chest, exploring his soft muscles, but he soon caught it, bringing it to her lips, kissing her knuckles. 

“I like you so much,” Kaelo repeated. “You’re handsome, delicate, and strong at the same time. I’ve never met anyone like you before. I wish I could be like you. Instead, I am a brute in constant pain.”

Rey had no idea that men could be so sweet, and that was even more true when the man in question was as big and ruthless as Kaelo. Her mind ran to Prince Benwulf again, wondering if he could be capable of such tenderness, of such beautiful words whispered against her freckled skin, making her shiver in the darkness, making her  _ want.  _

But she’d avoided her marriage, and she was with another man altogether now, one that listened to her, and shared his food with her, and despite the rocky beginning of their brief adventure together, he was showing her his soft, lonely underbelly. Feeling bold, she sought his lips, finding them right against her jawline. Turning her head, she captured his mouth in a quick peck, making him laugh, and he promptly kissed her again, biting at her lips and licking her with his wicked tongue.

Rey was sure she was about to go up in flames from within. Kaelo entwined their legs until her crotch was against his thigh — thankfully, she was still wearing her hidden sock — his erection trapped against her hipbone, and pushed against her, moaning against her lips. 

_ Oh. _

That’s what he was meaning earlier, with his proposal! Rey pushed back against his thigh, and her rolled up sock pushed against her folds in a delicious, heavenly way that brought her over the edge after only a few humps, her limb shivering and her belly on fire. Kaelo kept grinding against her until he came as well, his whole body as wildfire against hers, and she swallowed his orgasm in another biting kiss, moaning with him in the darkness of the woods, the peaceful sloshing of the river the only noise around them.

+++

The following morning Rey woke up, for the first time since they’d met, before Kaelo. He was still sleeping beside her, looking younger than his years, his face well rested for once. Her head cushioned against his bicep, Rey took her time to look at him: after their last night together, she wanted to get to know him for real. Her initial plan of abandoning him right after they’d waded the river becoming less and less appealing in her eyes. He was a man made of contradictions, his harsh exterior used as a shield to hide the unexpected softness of a lonely child, his features reflecting that aspect of his personality as well.

His face was made of hard, uneven planes that she couldn’t help finding appealing. He had a prominent, broken nose that again reminded her of the few still standing Roman statues she’d seen in her hometown, and his jaw had been broken as well at one point of his life, healing crooked. His brow was pronounced and sharp, leaving space to a gently curved forehead, following the oblong shape of his skull. 

She’d seen his grandfather’s skull, and Kaelo’s head wasn’t as elongated as that one. She briefly wondered if it was because his mother hadn’t wanted to bind it up straight away, as he’d told her. But again, that had left him with crippling migraines, overshadowing his whole life, so it hadn’t been a wise decision on his family’s part. Nevertheless, she found him beautiful, and the thought that he was finding her attractive as well was still wondrous to her. 

“I can hear you thinking,” he whispered, squinting one of his golden eyes.

Rey found herself smiling against her will. 

Kaelo sat down then and, to her amazement, he quickly untied the complicated knot keeping the rope secured to his wrist. 

“We have to go, and as I’ve promised, I need you to learn how to float at least,” he explained. “We don’t need any rope for that.”

She didn’t thank him when he freed her, nor as he massaged her wrist. She didn’t even thank him as he took three hours to explain to her how to not drown in the river, bringing her gradually where the water was too deep for her to stand in, his hand in hers, defying the currents. At the end of the morning, Rey was able to quickly cross the first half of the river, her movements awkward and uncoordinated, reaching a small island with rocks, debris, and a couple of trees. 

Kaelo brought Falcon on the island — apparently, horses knew how to swim — and they stopped there to eat before facing the deeper half of the river. Rey chewed on her dried meat, while she and Kaelo tried to get a bit of warmth from the sun, their clothes still drenched. He kept his leggings on, this time. Pensive, she looked at the currents moving fast under her gaze, bringing leaves, driftwood, silvery fishes, adapting to the meanders of the riverbed, ever-changing, never stopping.

“Rey?” he called her, interrupting her musings.

“Sorry,” she answered, accepting a stale piece of bread dipped in honey. “I was thinking.”

“What caught your attention?”

“The water— I—” she sighed. “Have you ever thought about how our people are like water, like a river?”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“We adapt to survive. We abandoned our homeland, we traveled from the east, came here, and now we’re moving again. It’s like we’re made of water. We’re a liquid nation, adapting to what surrounds us.”

Kaelo hummed. “I see that now, and you’re right. This land is like a rock, and we slither through its nooks, through its crannies until we make them ours.”

“And when someone else fills those nooks, we move again, until we find another place.”

Kaelo nodded, taking her hand, squeezing it. “Are you ready? We need to go.”

“Yes,” she said, her gaze unwavering.

Wading the second half of the river proved to be more difficult and dangerous than predicted. Kaelo had to secure his rope to one of the trees, swim to the other shore and tie it to another tree there, since the currents were too fast and strong for Rey — — or Falcon — — to swim following a straight line. Kaelo himself had difficulties, despite seeming to be an experienced swimmer. Rey gulped as he dived in, emerging several feet away, the rope the only thing keeping him from being dragged by the current, and she cheered when he finally exited from the water, securing the rope to a sturdy trunk there.

“Come,” he signaled, and Rey, terrified, began walking towards him.

There was no way she could swim safely without ending in some whirlpool. The current was already too strong after a few steps, but she swiftly grabbed the rope with both hands, as hard as she managed, slowly traipsing across it until she reached a point where the water was shallow enough, and Kaelo’s arms waiting for her. She promptly threw her arms around his neck as he picked her up, covering the last steps separating them from the shore.

“I’ll come back to you, I need to retrieve Falcon,” he warned, right before diving again.

Rey watched as he faced the currents alone, re-emerging from the water, almost too far from the rope to grab it safely, her stomach in her throat. She covered her eyes as his fingers missed it once, then twice, but he finally managed to take hold of the rope, and when she found the courage to look at him, he was already walking on the island, trying to convince Falcon to get into the water again. 

The mare didn’t like the idea for sure, but Kaelo mounted her, spurring her towards the deep, swirling waters until she finally entered them, trying to swim in a straight line but soon succumbing to the strength of the river. Kaelo waved his hands in Rey’s direction, indicating a random point downstream, and she began to walk, her legs still trembling. Falcon swam slowly towards the shore, offering her right flank to the current, and she finally managed to exit the river almost a mile east from the little island. When Kaelo dismounted, Rey began to run, meeting him halfway and throwing herself at him.

He caught her, laughing, peppering her face with kisses until they both came back gasping for air.

“We did it!” he whispered, right before kissing her right on the lips.

Rey still wasn’t used to receiving affection so freely, so the kiss took her by surprise, but she soon parted her lips to let him explore her mouth, moaning. He was so sweet that she was quickly becoming addicted to his hands and lips on her skin.

“I want— I want to keep traveling with you,” she declared, not thinking about how she should finally reveal him that she was a girl. 

His hands trembling, he caressed her cheeks reverently, as if he wasn’t expecting what she just said like he was used to being abandoned without much thought by everyone. He touched her like he couldn’t believe she existed altogether, that she wanted to remain with him despite having kept her on a leash for days.

“Rey, I—” He smiled, crow’s feet appearing around his eyes. “Thank you.”

But their intimate, precious moment was to be short-lived. “What do we have here?” a voice emerged from the nearby trees. “Two Goths fooling around right outside of Cremona. And one of them with a very interesting head.”

Kaelo immediately released Rey, pushing her behind a tree as he ran towards Falcon to retrieve their swords from the bags hanging from the saddle. While Rey waited for Kaelo to return, her eyes wide open in fear, the man that spoke emerged from the trees, almost fully armed, his helmet betraying a military status: he was a Byzantine soldier, and he wasn’t alone. Rey stood, petrified on the spot as at least six men surrounded the tree she used to hide. She almost missed Kaelo shouting her name, turning her head in his direction in time for catching the weapon he threw at her. They survived the river, and now they needed to fight for their lives. Heart in her throat, she emerged from behind the trunk.

“Eliminate the kid,” the commander said. “The man is Prince Benwulf. Let’s try to bring him to Belisarius alive; he’ll take pleasure in gutting him himself.”

_ “What?” _ Rey cried, eyes wide open on the man that had been her captor, her travel partner, her first kiss.

How could he be Prince Benwulf — the betrothed she’d feared and hated so much? But there was no time to think about that small, immense detail right now.

“Behind you!” he shouted while stabbing a man in the neck and another one in the abdomen in quick succession, and despite everything she managed to turn around in time, parrying the first blow that a soldier aimed at her, right in time to avoid dying with her head broken. Her body was still following her partner’s guide as it had yet to understand who he was. She tried to follow her instinct, leaving her fear and mistrust for the Prince behind her.

The men attacking them were equipped with gladiuses, and luckily they didn’t have shields. Kaelo’s and her sword were longer — they had this small advantage at least — so Rey easily disarmed the man that just tried to hit her, wounding his hand and kicking him in the face. Frightened by the sudden touch, she jumped when she found herself back to back with him, the remaining soldiers surrounding them, determined to get the upper hand even if between her and Kaelo — or Benwulf? — they’d already lost three men.

One of the soldiers tried to strike her with his gladius, but she grabbed Kaelo’s thigh, using his back as support to serve the enemy a flying kick in the mandible, sending him on the ground. The thought that Lady Holdo would be proud of her alertness almost made her forget that she'd orgasmed against that same thigh she was grabbing, the previous evening.

Taking advantage of the length of her weapon, she slashed another man’s chest, but soon one of the soldiers pushed her away from her partner. He was more skilled than the others, and she wasn’t sure she could survive him: he managed to trap her right arm, blocking her sword, but she quickly let the weapon fall in her other hand, taking him by surprise and slashing his abdomen.

Turning towards the prince, several feet from her, she noticed that he had three men on him, and he was struggling. He gutted one of the soldiers straight away, as he killed the second, a third man immobilized him from behind, an arm around his neck, trying to choke him. Her knees trembling, she had to do something, anything, to help him, even if he was her fearsome betrothed. He lost both his weapons trying to free his neck, and Rey felt herself shout  _ “Ben!” _ before throwing her sword at him, like her own mouth had decided to acknowledge who he was on its own. He caught the long blade in his left hand, sinking it into the soldier’s neck. 

Rey’s heart was running as fast as a galloping horse, her eyes glued on the scene in front of her. The man fell on the ground, blood gurgling outside of his mouth as the Prince removed the sword from the still warm corpse. They’d been ambushed, but all their enemies were dead now, and she’d been saved by the man she’d feared so much. The Prince turned in her direction, saying something to her, but her ears didn’t catch his words, as his lips kept moving. She had to do something, anything, but she didn’t know what to do now.

Escaping as far as possible from him was the only viable solution for Rey, but she was still frozen on the spot. Benwulf approached her, his eyes fixed on her face, offering her still bloodied sword back. He was panting, and unarmed, his already wet body covered in sweat. Hands shaking and heart in her throat, she accepted the blade with a tentative nod, immediately pointing it at him.

“Rey?” he asked, puzzled.

This time she could hear his voice.

“Is it true?” she asked, her lips trembling. “Are you Prince Benwulf?”

He nodded. “I was. But I left the past behind me. Prince Benwulf is dead.”

“Do not approach me,” Rey whispered, tears already streaking her cheeks. “Do not touch me, do not talk to me again. We part ways here.”

“Rey I— I don’t understand,” he pleaded, walking towards her, sword in hand. “Did I— did I kill someone you knew?”

“Stay back!” she shouted.

“Explain to me what you’re trying to do because I don’t understand!” he shouted back.

Rey hit him with her sword, but he promptly parried her blow, making her weapon fly between the bushes, advancing on her.

“Please!” he cried. “Why are you attacking me?”

Rey kept silent, her heartbeat so loud that it almost deafened her, walking backward until she stepped on an abandoned gladius with her foot. Crouching, she picked that weapon up, flinging it at the Prince, kicking him in the stomach as he was distracted. He let his sword fall, but Rey quickly collected it, hitting him from below with his blade. This time, the sword hit its mark, cleaving Benwulf’s face with its tip, in a swift, upwards sweep. Shocked, his eyes wide as saucers — she’d almost carved his right one out — he stumbled back, stumbling on a branch and falling on the ground, his head hitting a rock with a loud _ thud. _

“No!” Rey cried, aghast. “No, no, no, no no!”

Horrified by what happened, she reached him on unsteady legs. She only intended to scare him away from her, without outing herself as his betrothed, she didn’t want to kill him. But everything happened too quickly, and now he was probably dead because of her.

“What have I done?” she whispered, trembling and crying, as she checked on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many of you have commented upon cranial deformation! So far, what I know is:
> 
> -it's not painful;  
> -it doesn't have any side effects, so Kaelo's migraines are purely fictional;  
> -it developed independently in several places and times;  
> -it's still used in some places;
> 
> Only three elongated skulls have been found in Northern Italy so far: a man ( a knight) and a child near Turin and a woman in Padua.


	6. Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey meets Rose and Finn, a Goth princess and a Roman veteran. They welcome Kaelo and her in their farm, offering them shelter and warm meals until he recovers from his injuries.

Padus River, between Cremona and Placentia, 542 A.D. 

Spring.

The prince was unconscious, blood flowing copiously from the wound she’d inflicted on him, staining his neck. Rey checked the back of his head, finding blood there as well, and her heart sank. She knew perfectly well that people could die after hitting their head — but his heart was still beating steadily under her palm — and she called for Falcon, luckily unharmed, hiding behind a crop of trees. The mare trotted towards them quickly, and Rey retrieved some clothes from one of the bags, cutting them to pieces to bandage Benwulf’s face and head. He didn’t protest even once while she took care of him, and neither did he when she made Falcon kneel on the sand, pulling her betrothed's unconscious body on the saddle. 

There was no way she could ride with him now, so she put him in a prone position over the horse’s neck and, reins in hands, she started guiding her between the trees, walking upstreams. Almost a mile from the location of their skirmish she saw a small dry-docked boat, containing six shields: it was the soldier’s boat, the one they’d used to reach the other shore from the harbour, now in plain sight from her position. It was teeming with men, and Rey decided to delve deeper into the woods, hoping to not meet other patrols.

Checking regularly on Benwulf — he was still unconscious, but alive — Rey walked until dusk. The magnitude of what had happened to her hit her all of a sudden as she shivered on the naked ground and tried to sleep, after she used the woolen cape to cover her betrothed’s body to prevent him from freezing during the night, seeing how much blood he’d lost. 

Everything seemed too absurd to be true: trying to escape Prince Benwulf, she’d met him nonetheless as they were both fugitives, hated him so much that she’d fallen in love with him, and almost killed him with her sword. Falcon’s snout poked her head and she started to cry silently as the fire she’d light earlier died, the last coals fizzling beside her feet.

He surely wasn’t nice, but he also was not the monster she’d believed him to be for years. He wasn’t a simple man: he was a skilled warrior, ruthless, sarcastic and fearless, but he’d been so sweet with her that last night, letting her take the reins of what they’d done, never pushing her, and freeing her exactly as he’d promised the following morning. Reydegond from Verona had wanted him dead, but Rey from nowhere wanted him to live, wanted to know him better, wanted to keep traveling at his side. If this was how people behaved when they were in love, she didn’t like it for sure, but she couldn’t prevent her heart from beating for him.

Scaring Falcon, Rey quickly rolled on her feet and stirred the embers, adding a long, dry branch until the smallest fire started burning one of its extremities. She checked on the prince — he was cold, but the bandages weren’t soaked anymore, and his heart was steady. She made Falcon kneel so she could pull him onto the saddle. After taking the makeshift torch with her she started walking west again, hoping that he would wake up sooner or later, hoping that he would somehow forgive her. 

It was dawn when Rey finally met someone, in the rare, cultivated fields surrounding the woods. A couple of miles south from the shore there was what looked like a small farm. She tied Falcon to a tree and walked towards the building, a well-preserved evidence of old Roman farms, like Maz’s  _ taberna. _ She wondered who lived there, if they were friends or foes, and her curiosity got sated right away: a man led two horses outside of a barn tying them to a four-wheeled chariot, his dark skin confirming that he was a Roman. But was he a Roman already living there, like her old friend, or was he one of the invaders from Byzantium?

Rey stopped, crouching in a nearby trench, observing him. He loaded several crates on the chariot, containing what looked like cabbages, turnips, eggs — he was probably the farmer himself, ready to sell his products in a nearby market during the day. Rey slowly crawled along the trench to watch him better, and she finally saw that there was someone else with him, a woman sitting beside the barn, filling the crates with produce. When this woman turned her head, Rey gasped loudly: her skull was as oblong as the prince’s, if not more, her slanted eyes and black, thick hair betraying her Goth heritage — she was maybe descending from one of the eastern tribes, coming from the boundless steppe of Asia.

Jumping outside of the trench, she cried for help, and the couple stopped working around the chariot, both of them reaching their belts, where their weapons were sheathed.

“I’m a Goth,” Rey panted, stopping in front of the main gates of the farm, her hands lifted in the air. “I have a wounded man with me, in the woods, we were traveling west and some Byzantine soldiers attacked us. He’s barely alive, and unconscious.”

“What’s your name?” the man asked, his hand abandoning the handle of what looked like a Roman gladius.

“Rey. Reymund.”

“Nice name,” the woman interjected. “My name is Rosemund, and this one is Felicianus, my husband. Welcome to our farm.”

“Do you need help to bring your companion here?” Felicianus asked. “We could unload the chariot if you need it.”

“We have a horse, we just need— I don't even know what!” Rey blurted out.

“You’ll need a bed to begin, and a hot meal,” Rosemund said. “Finn, help the boy, I’m going to prepare a pallet for that poor man.”

Rey started running towards the woods, followed by the farmer. They found Falcon grazing on some grass, still tied to the tree, with Benwulf still slumped across her back, without signs of life. Felicianus examined his bandages, wincing as he uncovered his face, as Rey tried to fight the lump in her throat, uselessly.

“Is it that bad?” she asked.

“Yes and no,” Felicianus sighed. “There is a bump behind his head, but the bone doesn’t seem cracked. We can only hope he’ll wake up on his own. I can sew his face up if you want.”

“You know how to do that?”

“I’ve been in the army, I’m a veteran. I know how to do a lot of things, and I’ve taken care of several of my comrades during the years.”

Rey untied Falcon from the trees, guiding her towards the farm. “You don’t look old.”

“I’m not,” the man sighed. “To be honest, I’m not even a real veteran, I’m a deserter. They enlisted me to  _ unify the Empire again, _ they said, to  _ make it great again, _ but I’ve only witnessed massacre after massacre. I stopped when I met Rose a few years ago, in Mediolanum, while we were under siege by her people. Maybe she’ll tell you what happened.” 

“Is she a princess?” Rey asked, touching her nape. “Her head is... long.”

“She was indeed, but she lost her family. Is your friend here a prince as well?”

Rey nodded. “I don’t know what happened to his family. I met him not long ago, but he saved me from those soldiers.”

“You’re lucky you found us. Since troops settled in Cremona, we don't feel safe anymore. Rose can’t even leave the farm, and I’ve started selling my produce in Placentia. It’s farther, but what can you do? I don’t want them following me home and seeing her, or worse. They kill your people on sight, nowadays.”

“Thank you, Felicianus. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Call me Finn, everyone knows me by that name. And don’t worry, we’re not helping you to gain anything back.”

Rosemund was waiting for them at the gates. “I’ve prepared a room for you upstairs, with a fresh pallet.”

Luckily, Finn was strong enough to pick Benwulf up, climbing the stairs slowly, and laying him on the makeshift bed. Rose told Rey that she was sorry for not having a real bed for them, but that straw pallet with a clean sheet was more than enough. Rey almost cried in front of her hosts, exhaustion the only thing that prevented her from doing so. As Rose excused herself to finish loading the chariot, Finn boiled a thread and a needle and started cleaning Benwulf’s face. Rey helped him, keeping the wound dry as he pressed the edges together, sewing them slowly and regularly.

“They’ve surely done a number on him. How many men attacked you?”

“Six. They... saw his head, and they waited for us to wade the river, and then hit while we were distracted.”

Finn grimaced. “Bastards and cowards. I’m happy you came out almost unscathed.”

Rey averted her gaze, feeling guilty. If she hadn’t been as hasty as she’d always been, Benwulf wouldn’t be almost dead now. Finn finished his suture right when Rose joined them, telling him that the chariot was ready, and he excused himself.

“I need to go to Placentia, and I’m already late. I hope to see everyone at least awake when I come back.”

Rose kissed him on the lips, making Rey’s heart do a somersault. Finn’s hands cradled her head, and he kissed her on the cheeks, on the eyes, on the forehead and she laughed, kissing and hugging him back. Rey looked at Benwulf, still unconscious, his face bearing a new bandage, and something dark, something too similar to envy filled her heart. They could have had the same thing that their hosts had. But now he was dying because of her.

“Rey?” Rose called her.

“Sorry. I was distracted.”

“I was telling you that I’m sorry that we haven’t another sleeping accommodation for you.”

_ Oh. _

Rey hadn’t thought about what would happen with Benwulf once they were safe. She didn’t think about the consequences of bringing him to the farm, like she hadn’t thought about the consequences of fighting him, back in the woods, and the thought of sharing a bed, a real one with him left her flustered. However, the pallet where her betrothed was lying was big enough for both of them.

“Thank you, we’ll manage, I can stay on the ground. We’ve slept in worse conditions.”

+++

Prince Benwulf woke up during the evening, while Finn was taking a look at his stitches, glancing with distrust at the sight of the Roman.

“Where’s Rey?” he croaked, trying to sit on the pallet, his arms trembling. 

“I— I’m here,” she squeaked from her corner, the fact that her name had been the first thing to leave his mouth making her head spin and her knees shake.

Did he even remember their fight? Did he know she'd been the one to almost kill him? Even if he could recall everything, he didn’t seem to care: once his left eye landed on her — the right one was still swollen and unfocused — he visibly relaxed, permitting Finn to finish cleaning his wound. 

“Are you hurt? Are we prisoners?”

“No, I was looking for help, and I met two kind people.”

“I’m Felicianus,” Finn said. “But I’m known as Finn. What’s your name?”

He hesitated, his eye roaming the small, cozy room. “I— I don’t know anymore.”

Rose entered the room at that moment, with bowls of chicken broth for everyone. “Look who’s awake,” she said. “Our prince! Do you think you can stomach something warm?”

After Rose introduced herself, exchanging pleasantries about their heads with her convalescent guest, they ate in silence, sitting around the pallet. Rey helped Benwulf eat, but soon he was strong enough to do it by himself, so she sat in a corner of the bed and wolfed her portion down, ravenous.

“What happened?” he asked her, uncaring about their guests.

“O — one of the soldiers managed to hit you, pushing you on the ground. You hit your head.”

“Did you kill him?”

Rey nodded, her gaze downcasted, glad that he wasn’t asking more details about his wounds. “Finn sewed your wounds shut.”

“Thank you Finn, thank you Rose. I owe my life to you and to Rey here.”

“You’re welcome,” Finn answered, collecting their empty bowls. “We’ll let you rest, now.”

“Good night,” Rose said. “Call if you need us.”

Left alone, Benwulf took Rey’s hand, squeezing it with all the strength he had — it wasn’t much — and Rey felt guilt begin to erode her heart; guilt that had already taken tangible form in the wound bisecting his face in half, forever marrying his skin.

“You called me Benwulf out there,” he whispered. “I remember this.”

Rey nodded, heart thundering. “The commander of those soldiers… He called you Prince Benwulf. You called yourself Kaelo. How should I call you?”

“I thought I didn’t want to be called with my old name anymore, but I don’t dislike it coming from your lips. You could call me Ben.”

“I’ve heard people talking about you, while I was in Forum Allieni,” Rey confessed, already blushing. “They were guards, I think, and they said that you escaped from Ravenna to avoid marrying a Byzantine princess. Because you were still in love with your betrothed.”

Ben laughed weakly, wincing in pain straight away. Rey helped him lie down again and he seized the moment to catch her in one of his hugs, his arms enveloping her without the usual strength. 

“I didn’t lie when I told you that I never met my betrothed. But I used her existence against a marriage proposal by Belisarius himself. He offered me the hand of his cousin, to trap me at court, and I needed an excuse to refuse without offending her. I even fought with my own mother about it. That's why I left Ravenna.” His unpatched eye was luminous, fixed on Rey’s face, tearing a hole into her soul. “If I could I would marry you, Rey. But I can’t.”

She flinched at his words, but when she opened her mouth to argue back, he was already asleep.

+++

The following morning, Rey woke up with her thighs sticky with blood. She slithered out of the pallet silently, after checking the prince’s heartbeat — still alive — and went downstairs to wash her stained clothes, memories of that fateful night in Verona, right before the siege filling her mind. 

Rose and Finn’s farm had a well in the middle of its internal courtyard: Rey filled a bucket and crouched behind the structure, cleaning first herself, then her leggings, and fashioning a pad made of folded strips of fabric. Luckily, it was too early for her guests to be up, so she returned to Ben’s room, waking him up and convincing him to surrender his dirty clothes to her. He disrobed only after she conceded him a kiss, falling asleep again with a smile on his lips.

Rose came down while she was hanging her laundry on a rope stretched between two fig trees, and asked Rey to help Finn load the wagon while she retrieved the eggs from their chicken coop. Rey liked working with her hands, and the crates containing the last cabbages of the season reminded her of the months she passed at Maz’s. It was an easier time for her, but she wasn’t sure she’d been really happy at the  _ taberna; _ not having really close friends besides its owner. Finn thanked her, and asked her if she wanted to come to Placentia with him; he felt lonely at the market since Rose had stopped going with him, but Rey declined politely, using her recovering companion as an excuse to remain at the farm. 

Ben slept for the whole day. Too debilitated to even try to walk, he remained awake just long enough to hug Rey and kiss her sweetly after she took care of him. She helped him eat, wash with a sponge, and pee, her eyes trying to not land on his soft member as he filled a chamberpot. Rose helped change his bandages after dusk, noticing how the back of his head and his right eye were less swollen, and he looked overall better, falling asleep more easily and peacefully. Since her husband was already sleeping as well, Rose sought company, inviting Rey downstairs to drink something warm before bed.

“I have chamomile. It grows in our fields, amongst the vegetables and other useful herbs, and Finn always makes sure we have at least a jar of it in the pantry.”

Rey followed her guest in the kitchen, and they sat at the table, waiting for the brew to cool down a bit before sipping it. Rose added a spoonful of honey to her cup, and Rey followed her example. 

“I saw you this morning,” the older woman said, smiling. “From my window. While you were washing your clothes.”

_ Oh. _

Rey felt herself fall, even if she was sitting on a solid, wooden bench. Could she trust Rose enough to not spill her secret to Ben and Finn?

“I can expla— ”

Rose shushed her with a gesture of her hand. “There’s no need to explain. I only need to know if Benwulf is keeping you with him against your will. Because if he is, we can set you free and deal with him.”

“Not anymore. It’s a long story. A barely believable story.”

“Then we need something stronger than chamomile,” Rose announced, extracting a small flask from a cabinet behind her, promptly spiking their cups.

Rey tasted the new mixture, perceiving something alcoholic in her brew, colourless and way stronger than wine.

_ “Aqua vitae,” _ her guest declared. “I have several bottles of that, and my lamps are filled with good oil. Make yourself comfortable.”

Rey told Rose everything. From her childhood with Plautus to her being still so afraid of Prince Benwulf that she tried to kill him even after they’d kissed and he’d saved her life. Rose listened carefully, commenting only twice: the first time she expressed chagrin after Rey told her that Ben had dared keep her on a leash for several days; the second time she laughed in delight after Rey, definitely tipsy by then, confessed every detail about her first roll in the hay — or better, in the underbrush — sock in her leggings included.

“You’re in love!” she finally commented. “You’re in love with that moron!”

Rey did want to scream that she wasn’t, but there was no point in lying anymore, especially to herself. She wailed, hiding her now red face in her palms.

“I hate him. And I love him, at the same time.”

Rose laughed. “And hating him brought you straight between his arms! Unbelievable.” 

“What should I do?”

“Tell him. When he feels better,” Rose answered, like it would be easy for Rey. “I’ve noticed how he looks at you, he reciprocates your feelings.”

“No,” Rey whispered, shaking her head. “He likes Rey the boy. He doesn’t know I’m Reydegond, the betrothed he escaped from.”

Rose sighed. “I’m sure he won’t care that you’re a girl. He loves you for yourself, not because he thinks you’re a boy. In any case, tomorrow morning you’ll come with me to the fields.”

“To do what?”

“To harvest wild carrots.”

+++

Rose explained to Rey how to recognize wild carrots and other herbs, and how to add their seeds to alcohol to make a tincture. Rey was aware of the purpose of that concoction since she knew that Lady Holdo and a couple of Maz’s helpers used it regularly: it was one of the best methods to avoid getting pregnant. The thought of being with Ben in that intimate way made her all hot and bothered, her face as red as a poppy.

Rey’s mind raced to him. Benwulf had eaten something that morning, and they’d exchanged a couple of kisses, but nothing more, even if she could feel his erection poking at her backside during the night. He was definitely feeling better. Hiding her face from Rose, Rey blushed wildly, feeling a pleasant tingle at the apex of her thighs, a tingle that made hunger arise in her heart, a hunger she’d only felt once before, while grinding against the Prince’s thigh.

“Now we have to wait for the tincture to be ready,” Rose said, giving Rey a small flask. “Go to him.”

“Is this...”

“One of the bottles from my stash, yes. So you don’t need to wait.” 

Rey ran upstairs. Ben was awake, his bandage undone, looking at the ceiling with both eyes, and he welcomed her between his arms laughing, and kissing her face. His scar looked good, and maybe they could remove his stitches soon.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“It’s strange,” he answered, smiling. “I should feel awful after I almost broke my skull, but… I feel better. My head… it hurts only if I touch the bump. But I don’t have migraines anymore.”

Relief flooded Rey’s conscience, making her head spin, and Ben caught her right before she could fall over his chest, squeezing her between his arms and cradling her sweetly.

“I feel lucky,” he whispered. “I may have a new scar, but I’m free from my pain, at least.”

Rey thought about telling him that the scar wasn’t so bad, and it complimented his coarse personality, but she bit her tongue right in time. “What— what about your grandfather?” she exclaimed, instead. “Does he still talk to you?”

Ben’s face fell. “I can’t hear him anymore. I— I would like to see his head.”

“It remained in its bag, with Falcon. How do you feel about walking a bit?”

“Would you help me?”

Rey nodded, taking Ben’s hand and helping him get on his feet, after hiding her bottle of tincture between the pallet and the wall. Luckily, he was too busy donning a shirt to notice what she was doing. She accompanied him downstairs — Rose was still in the fields — and they ate something together. Now strong enough to walk on his own, Ben reached the stables where his horse was being kept.

He caressed the mare’s snout, then looked for the skull on one of the bags hanging from the wooden wall. Rey, feeling as she was intruding on a private moment, busied herself with Falcon, picking up a brush and slowly untangling her mane. She worked slowly and methodically until she heard Ben sniffing. His gaze downcasted, he was sitting in a corner, on a pallet, the skull resting on another pallet in front of him. He needed her.

“Ben,” she said, approaching him, heart in her throat. 

He hugged her, burying his nose in her stomach, and cried silently. Rey began caressing his soft, tangled hair, hoping that her small gesture could be enough to soothe him. 

“He doesn’t talk to me,” he finally admitted. “He doesn’t talk to me anymore.”

She opened her mouth, but closed it straight away, not knowing what to say to him. His relationship with his dead Grandfather was something so unique to him that she felt like she couldn’t comment on it with words, so she kneeled in front of him, kissing his forehead instead. Ben closed his eyes and wept again, like losing his Grandfather’s voice meant losing his only faithful companion.

“I’m here,” she whispered against his brow. “If you want to talk about it.”

Beh nodded, opening his eyes, now red and shiny. “I feel empty. My head feels empty. I’m alone now.”

“You’re not!” Rey exclaimed. “You’re not alone! I’m not a great warrior from the past, but I’m here, with you.”

He dried his face with a sleeve, hastily, rubbing against his stitches, and took her hand in his, entwining their fingers together. “If I’m not alone, then neither are you.”

Rey nodded, kissing him on his lips this time.


	7. Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey tells Ben the truth.

Padus Valley, between Cremona and Placentia, 542 A.D. 

Spring.

Ben fully recovered from Rey’s attack in a couple of weeks and slowly started to help their guests manage the farm alongside her. He’d started bonding a bit with Finn despite their differences of nature and personality, but their shared past in the military — on opposite sides of a war — strangely helped. Rey still hadn’t mustered the courage to tell him that she was a woman, that she was his betrothed, and that she was the one that had disfigured him. Despite having several occasions to finally talk to him, Rey had always backed away, too afraid to lose what they had built so far. 

One rainy morning, right after waking up, the prince hugged Rey straight away, his hand wandering across her abdomen. She gulped, caught between relaxing under his caresses and tensing up since his palm was dangerously close to the binding she used to hide her breasts.

“Let’s stay a bit here,” he croaked into her ear. “Finn won’t go to the market today.”

“And?

“And he and Rose are going to sleep a bit more, or do other stuff since we can’t do anything outside. And I want to touch you, and make you come like that night, before wading the river.”

Rey clenched her thighs, her heart in her throat. She wanted it, she wanted him so much, but she was so scared to finally reveal herself to him. She stopped his hand, now traveling towards her crotch, and grabbed it, entwining their fingers.

“If you want,” he croaked in her ear, “if you want I could make you feel something you’ve never felt before. I just need a bit of oil and a bit of patience, it would be the perfect morning to try that.” 

Rey clearly felt herself get wet, her cunt pulsing in a hungry, desperate way. Was he referring to sodomy? She was no blushing maiden — technically, she was, but living with Plutt first and then at Maz’s taberna had prepared her about sex more than she’d expected. She wasn’t averse to the idea of sodomy, but that would have required a partial disrobing at least, and she wasn’t ready for that yet. She reached for his cock instead, still stiff from the night, trapped in the soft leggings Finn had loaned him to sleep.

“Oh,” he exclaimed, moaning.

She turned between his arms, nesting her head in the crook of his neck, her hand returning swiftly over his erection. Ben’s eyebrows were scrunched, the scar she gave him — her scar — moving with his muscles, the new, soft skin wrinkling under the strain. She slid against his body, her crotch finding his hip bone, like during that night in the woods, and she ground her cunt against it, hoping he wouldn’t notice the absence of the infamous sock — she stopped wearing it once at the farm.

Ben opened his eyes only to kiss her forehead, and free his cock from the leggings. Rey let him do it, still seeking solace against his body, her eyes landing between his legs only after her hand returned on him, grabbing at him, making his breath hitch. She’d never seen him erect — the water of the river had been too cold, while he bathed — and the sight was, as everything that was part of him,  _ fascinating. _ His cock sprung out a nest of sparse, coarse hair — as black as the hair on his head — its slender shape curving gently towards his belly; she couldn’t see his balls from her position but she could feel how the texture of his skin changed towards his sac, more rough and elastic, covered by short, silkier hair. She guessed it was quite long, and quite thick as well, as her fingers could barely circle it. It only made sense since he was so tall and broad.

Rey moved her hand up and down, the foreskin caressing the bulbous, purplish head of his cock, making his chest heave under her head, and his heartbeat furiously right against her ear. She observed, mesmerized, as clear pearls of fluid gathered on the cute, small slit decorating his glans, and when the pad of her thumbs swept it away, he actually moaned, his back arching on the pallet. It was beautiful seeing him like this, and knowing that she was the one to cause him to be so flustered, so vulnerable under her extremely inexperienced hand. She wanted to be able to be vulnerable as well when in his company, his huge hands cradling her body and giving her pleasure.

Frustrated, she sped her hand up, making him come almost by force as all his limbs trembled in shock, white spurts of come milked from her hand landing on his pale abdomen, her own pleasure forgotten as she witnessed his orgasm firsthand. Once Ben stopped shaking, he opened his eyes again, looking at Rey like she had just done something beautiful, something incredible and unforgettable. He took her chin in her hand, kissing her, his plush lips crashing over her mouth again and again until she moaned.

“You didn’t come,” he stated, his eyes luminous. “I want to make you come. Please.”

Rey opened her mouth to protest, but someone knocked on the door, saving her to dig for yet another excuse.

Opening the door, she found Rose on the other side, index finger against her lips.

“So, have you told him?” she whispered.

Rey, her cheeks already blushing, shook her head.

“But you did something earlier, we heard you.”

Rey hid her face in her hands, mumbling something unintelligible.

Rose patted her shoulder, smiling wickedly. “Join us downstairs, we’re preparing breakfast,” she announced loudly.

+++

In the afternoon, after it stopped raining, Rose and Finn prepared their chariot to make a short trip somewhere. Puzzled, Rey watched them load the vehicle with fabric linens mainly, similar to the towels they used after bathing in the small bathtub downstairs, in a tiny cubicle that looked like the old thermal structures she’d seen in Verona. Ben was sleeping peacefully on his pallet but promptly woke up when Finn knocked on the door.

“Come with us,” he said. “You won’t regret it.”

“To where?” Rey asked.

“You’ll see it when we’ll arrive there,” Finn answered, cryptic. 

But there was no time to protest: Ben was already dressing. “I’m tired of sleeping. Let’s go.”

Rey mounted on the front of the wagon with Finn, while Rose and Ben sat in the back, hoods hiding their heads, everyone’s weapon secured under their seats. There was no one around — the road was full of puddles left by the recent rain — but one never knows, so it was better to always be prepared to make an ill-fated meeting. Finn drove the wagon alongside the river, not far from there Rey had brought him to retrieve Ben, several days before, and keep traveling upstream.

“What are your plans now that Ben is feeling better?” he asked.

“We wanted to reach Ticinum or Mediolanum, in the beginning,” Rey explained. “As you already know.”

Finn nodded. Both he and Rose had told their guests that the former capital had been severely hit from the latest Goth siege, and there wasn’t much to see there. People had quickly settled in the countryside, abandoning the dilapidated buildings of the centre, trying to steal land from the forests that had already eaten the old Roman centuriation. And Ticinum wasn’t safe either, despite being one of the main Goth military centres: it could still be attacked from the Byzantines settled in Cremona, seeing its importance.

“We should try to cross the Alps then, to reach the Goth lands in Gallia.”

“You could remain with us, you know,” Rose said. 

“No, we should go with them,” Finn interrupted her. “We should go where you won’t need to hide anymore.

Rey sighed. “I don’t care where we’ll end up, I only want to be safe from now on. If you want to travel with us, you’re more than welcome.”

Rose shook her head. “Not yet. We should finish to sell our produce from this season, and sell a couple of horses as well.”

“West from here you’ll find the Ligurians territories,” Finn said. “It’s relatively safe for you, they’re pretty bellicose towards the Romans, and they know no fear. Just follow the Padus river until people will start to call it Bodencus. Then you can decide to find the spring of the river, and cross the Alps, or travel south and reach the sea.”

The group fell silent for the rest of the trip, the horses’ hooves the only noise accompanying them. They kept following the shore until they met what looked like the ruins of a pool, a Roman pool, filled with steaming water.

_ Oh. _

“Is that a thermal spring?” Ben asked. “I’ve missed my daily baths in the river... and this is way more than I could have asked for.”

“Indeed it is,” Rose answered. “And since it just rained, no one will bother us.”

Rey almost expected Ben to disrobe himself and jump into the pool, but he removed his clothes far from Rose’s eyes, behind the chariot, and she took Rose’s arm, leading her far from the two men.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered, worried, her heart beating like mad.

“You haven’t told him yet, and the sooner, the better. This is the perfect occasion”

Rey, her cheeks already blushing, shook her head. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

“He loves you, there is no need to worry. And we can bathe with you.”

Rey took a moment to ponder on her friend’s words. “All together? Finn will… know as well then?”

Rose grabbed the younger woman's shoulder. “Rey, Finn knows already. He’s not dumb like your prince!”

“He— he never treated me differently!” 

Rey’s head turned towards Finn so fast that her neck protested. He’d already disrobed himself, and he was patiently waiting for them wrapped in a towel, sitting on the chariot. He nodded towards her, smiling, and she felt guilty for not having told him firsthand, letting him discover her secret on his own.

“How can he know if his behaviour towards me never changed?” she continued, baffled.

“Because he doesn’t care! And Ben will not care either, we love you for who you are Rey, not because you’re badly disguised as a boy!”

Rey’s stomach did a somersault: she was expecting many things from her hosts, but she surely didn’t expect to hear that they considered her a friend, that they considered her worthy of love. She started crying silently, and Rose hugged her thigh until she finally managed to clean her face. “Ben is already inside the pool. Remove your clothes, take a towel, and get in with him.”

Rey sighed, but did as Rose suggested, finally entering the pool. The water wasn’t unbearably hot, more like pleasurably warm, and Ben was mercifully too distracted by toads jumping around to notice that she entered the pool and sat right before him, in the shallow water, her towel well secured under her armpits. Rey looked for support, her gaze traveling towards their friends, but right before Rose could enter the pool, Finn put a foot in the water, shaking his head.

“This water is barely lukewarm. Wasn’t there another spring not far from here, a warmer one?”

“Indeed there was. Do you want to go there?” Rose answered, almost theatrically, making Rey snort and hide her face in her hands.

They were leaving them alone on purpose. At this point, she just hoped that Ben wouldn’t simply run away, horrified by her being a woman, leaving her completely alone in the middle of nowhere. Her stomach sank at the thought, she knew how awful he could be — but that was before knowing her better, and kissing her, and giving her pleasure.

“We’re going to bathe in another pool, right after those trees,” Finn announced, indicating somewhere in the woods. “We’ll retrieve you right before dusk.”

“That’s fine,” Ben said. “See you later, and be careful. Just shout if you need help.”

Finn left their swords with them, their clothes, and a couple of dry towels. Rey watched the chariot as it disappeared alongside the road, fuming, her heart about to escape from her chest.

“Hey,” Ben said, approaching her, his body fully stretched in the water. “It was nice to leave us alone on their part… so, if you want, we could— ”

Rey grunted, avoiding his gaze. He sat in front of her, on the bottom of the pool.

“Are you feeling well?” he inquired, worried, tilting his head until she was forced to look at him. 

Rey shut her mind off for once, leaving the reins of her body to her heart, this time. After all, it had been her heart that brought her to kill Plautus, setting her free, so maybe it was worth listening to. She grabbed her betrothed’s chin, kissing him angrily, and took one on his hands as well, bringing it to her chest. Ben, not knowing what was waiting for him, grabbed her left breast, still covered by the towel, and his eyes widened comically, his face awestruck as his huge fingers tightened around her small, supple tit.

His mouth opened in awe, interrupting the kiss, and his other hand searched for Rey’s right breast, finding it and squeezing it delicately with his long fingers. She lowered her gaze, but his right hand quickly abandoned her sleek forms to lift her chin again, his eyes bearing into hers.

“That’s why you never wanted to disrobe in front of me,” he stated, a wicked smile contorting his scar.

Rey nodded. “Are you disappointed?”

His mouth opened, awestruck. “You should be the one to be disappointed. I behaved like a beast with you, for the whole time we’ve been together.”

“Would you have behaved differently if I had told you straight away?”

“Yes. N— no,” he babbled. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t have kept you on a leash, and I would have avoided parading around naked so much, maybe.”

Rey lowered her gaze again, her fingers looking for his hands, still caressing her skin. “You said you loved me…” she whispered.

“I do!” he exclaimed, his lips crashing against hers again, his demanding tongue seeking entrance into her mouth. “Do you still want to be with me, after everything?”

Rey nodded, tears already pooling in her eyes. Ben let his hands roam behind her back, pulling her on his lap, and she sought shelter in the curve of his neck, letting her tears flow freely against his pale skin.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “Silly girl. You should have told me. I thought you were afraid of me, I thought you had scars you couldn’t show me, I thought something really bad had happened to you.”

“My scars are not visible,” she answered, and he squeezed her tight, the warm water sloshing around them. “I need to tell you something else.”

“Speak, please.”

“If you’ll want to leave me after my confession, I won’t blame you.”

Ben sighed. “Rey, I don’t deserve you, this is clear. I’ve never deserved you, since the moment we met, I’ve been stupid, and prepotent, and self-centered, and I hope you’ll forgive me for this, one day.”

“I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you,” she almost cried, but he shut her mouth with another kiss.

“You deserve everything!” he shouted back. “Now tell me what you need to tell me because this wait is killing me.”

Shaking her head, she started crying again. “I— I am the one that almost killed you. I attacked you with my sword, right after we killed those soldiers, on the shore of the river. I didn’t want to disfigure you, but I did, and— and then you stumbled upon some branch and hit your head. You almost died because of me.”

Ben didn’t speak for several minutes. “I vaguely recall you pointing a sword at me, at one point, but I can’t say if it was a dream or if it happened for real.

“It happened.”

“Why? Did I hurt you?”

“I was scared. Too scared to think. You and I— I've been scared of you since I was a child.”

Ben’s palms cradled her face, his thumbs sweeping her tears away. “We already know each other. No, you knew about Prince Benwulf. Rey, are you— ”

His mouth opened and closed several times, but his hands never left her face. Rey grabbed his wrists, caressing the soft, hairless skin over his bluish veins, feeling how much his heart was beating, in a round with hers.

“You’re Reydegond, from Verona,” he whispered, his lashes fluttering. “My betrothed.”

Rey flinched, confirming Benwulf’s suspects.

“But you’ll always be Rey from nowhere to me,” he reassured her. “We never met, why were you so terrified of me?”

“I don’t even know,” she whined. “I thought you were going to keep me trapped in a palace, I thought I had to renounce my sword and my freedom. I had no idea I could still have the permission to be myself, after our wedding. I had no idea I could still exist as a human being.”

He laughed. “I ran away for the same reasons. They wanted to use me as a tool to strengthen Belisarius’ power. They wanted me to marry someone I could never love, and sire children with them, all in the name of peace, and bringing the Empire to its old shine, making it great again. And lose myself in the process. I can’t live as a prisoner only because I’m tied by blood to someone. I want to sleep under a different sky every night, holding your hand. I thought I could never fall in love, then you stumbled upon me.”

“And then I slashed your face.”

He shrugged, caressing her cheek.

“You’re not angry?”

“For what, for my face?” He winked. “I’ve never been more menacing, I love this scar.”

She lifted a corner of her mouth, baffled at how silly he was. “For your head. You can’t hear your grandfather anymore.”

Ben shrugged. “He’s part of my past now. The one I did want to kill.”

Rey squeezed his wrists, and his hand left her face, but only to cradle her shoulders, pulling her further against his chest. A hand against his throat, she sheepishly pressed her lips against his, her tongue licking at his lower lip until he opened his mouth, turning his head to give her better access, bumping his sizable nose into hers before eating her alive. 

“Can I see you?” he asked between delicate bites, and she nodded, her face becoming red despite her want, her lips puffy and shiny after his attentions. “I want to see you.”

She stood in front of him, and he knelt on the bottom of the pool, almost in adoration in front of her wet body. Cool hair hitting them, her nipples became immediately hard, grateful to not be wrapped up tightly as usual under the bindings she’d used since she followed Maz to her  _ taberna. _ His gaze, now almost liquid, moved from her chest to the dark thatch of hair covering her mound, and the tip of his nose, after grazing the pale skin of her abdomen, sank exactly _ there. _ Rey gasped as he inhaled her scent, his eyes so huge she could drown in them. 

“You smell wonderful,” he murmured. “Can I see?”

Rey nodded, and he spread her legs, guiding one of her feet on the low wall that delimited the pool, her cheeks blushing furiously. He looked at her with the curiosity of a child, his fingers opening her lips like the petals of a flower, touching her tentatively and delicately, exploring her most sensitive parts. No one had looked at her so intimately before, and it made her heart frantic to expose herself to him like this.

“You’ll have to be patient with me, I’ve never been with a woman before,” he said, one of his fingers slowly penetrating her wet labia, making her head spin. “You’re my first.”

_ “Oh.” _

“Show me what you like,” he breathed against her skin. “Please.”

Knees trembling, Rey sat on his lap again — his cock was as hard as a rock, now — her back against his chest and her head cushioned against his shoulder. Ben kissed her forehead, and she took his right hand, bringing it between her legs, bringing the rough pads of his fingers right on her clit, circling it with slow caresses. 

“There,” she whispered before his mouth captured hers one last time.

He slithered another finger between her folds, feeling her warmth, her wetness, her hunger for him, and returned to her clit, making her sing, her moans the only sound besides the lazy sloshing of the nearby river. Rey closed her eyes, letting herself go between his caresses and his kisses, and when she opened them again, Ben was still watching her, his gaze full of awe, and love, and adoration. 

She came like this, with sweet words of love in her ears, and her heart filled with belonging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people asked about Prince Benwulf's head: I have sketched him! As you can see, it's just a bit longer than a regular head. Maybe I should put him in a manbun? 


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Ben reach the spring of the river that brought them together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our journey ends here, but Rey and Ben's continues west, past the Alps. But that's a story for another time...  
> Thank you so much, my dear readers, for all the comments, the kudos, the encouragements! Thank you so much, RFFA mods, for making this possible <3 Keep being awesome!

_Vesulus_ Mount, 542 A.D.

Summer.

Rey let herself fall on the ground when Falcon finally decided to walk alone for the last few miles separating them from the headwaters of the Padus river — or _Bodencus_ , as the locals referred to it, now nothing more than a creek slithering through pointy rocks. Ben, who had pushed the old mare while she was pulling, let himself fall beside her, as the horse began wandering in the icy water of the mountain spring, unbothered by their weariness. 

“I don’t know if we should have accepted Finn’s offer to take one of their horses,” she panted, exhausted.

Rey thought about their friends every day. It had been impossible to say goodbye to Finn and Rose without crying; they’d parted ways with an unspoken promise to meet each other again one day, hopefully in a place that was safe for everyone. She considered them her family now, especially after Ben had confirmed that her parents were dead, that Plautus had lied to her for years. Thinking about her tutor didn’t even make her angry anymore, she only felt numb now. As Ben loved to say, she was letting her past die, looking to the bright future in front of them. A future that couldn’t arrive fast enough, Falcon permitting.

“Imagine having two horses like Falcon to push around,” Ben whined, removing his hood.

They’d reached a considerable altitude; the air was cool but the sun was particularly unforgiving, making them sweat almost as much as they had while traversing the humid, swampy plain below.

“Falcon is unique,” she reassured him. “Thank God.”

“You know what?” Ben asked, his face suddenly tired and his eyes unfocused, lost somewhere she didn’t have access to. “I’ll leave Grandfather here,” he said, a sad smile blooming on his lips. “And then I’ll take my last bath in this river.”

Rey laughed, trying to make him laugh as well. “You’re going to bathe in a _palmus_ of water!”

“I’m sweaty, and the water is cool,” he said, unloading a small shovel from Falcon’s saddle. “Help me choose a spot.”

They dug a hole between grass and flowers, and Ben said goodbye to his ancestor for the last time, cradling the skull between his hands and touching its forehead with his. Rey felt the need to avert her gaze until he buried the skull, hiding it under a pile of rocks, so she turned away from him. But he called her back, asking her to put the last rock on the pile, and promptly tackled her, rolling both their bodies in the cold water, making her shriek and punch his chest.

“You asshole!” she laughed, but his lips quickly shut her mouth up, his mouth crashing over hers. 

“Make love to me, Milady,” he whispered, between sweet pecks all over her face.

“I should gut you for calling me that, Sir!” she squealed under his attack. “It’s too cold here to try anything.”

Ben turned them around, lying under her, never stopping his kisses. “But we already did it in the water. I’ll make you wetter than the river.”

“But it was warmer!” Rey protested again, straddling his tights. 

In retrospect, being afraid of his reaction at the revelation that she was a woman had been a bit silly on her part since she’d never thought anyone could be so keen to put their hands — and tongue on her, and so patient to make sure she came every time it happened. Ben could barely refrain from smothering her with his affection. He was stupidly in love — and she was so, so happy to finally experience such a feeling. 

They’d been unstoppable since they left their friends’ farm, their hands almost never leaving each other’s body, their hunger never sated. Once they reached the Ligurian territories, feeling more at ease, they simply slowed their pace, finally enjoying their travel along the river. Rey was drunk on Ben's passion for her, as she’d felt drunk on Rose and Finn’s unconditional love and friendship. She’d never thought she could be worthy of such feelings.

Despite the freezing temperature of the creek, Ben was already hard, and she slowly caressed his length through the wet fabric of his leggings. Too eager to wait, he started tugging at her own leggings until she had to stop and remove them.

“This river brought us together, I’m almost sorry to leave it behind. I want unforgettable memories to bring with me.”

“Ben, I couldn’t even count how many times we had sex. We already have many nice memories to bring with us. And there will be other rivers for us, this is not the end of our travels,” she exclaimed, as he manhandled her until she knelt over his head, each one of her knees beside his head. “These are our first steps.”

“I know. But I want another memory,” he whined, grabbing her hips and lowering her groin over his mouth, licking at her folds. 

Rey moaned. Her skin was still freezing from the water, but her insides were already melting with pleasure, coaxed by her betrothed’s tongue sliding against her sensitive bundle of nerves. He’d learned so quickly how to make her sing under his fingers, under his tongue, that it was difficult to believe that he’d never touched a woman before meeting her.

Folding her body over his torso, she quickly freed his cock — still hard and encased in drenched and cold fabric — and began licking it with abandon. Putting her shyness away had been the most natural thing to do with him, and now she was more sure of herself since she’d quickly learned how to make him sing, how to make his body hers in every possible way, and he’d done the same. 

As his long, dexterous fingers penetrated her, she finally engulfed his shaft in her mouth, feeling him jerk below her. Seeing him so helpless, so vulnerable as she had her way with him was one of the things she’d come to love the most in the last weeks, and he’d taught her how to let herself go as well. 

He sucked on her clit with his plush lips, as his fingers massaged her inner walls, the first jolt of electricity across her spine groundbreaking as usual. She moaned helplessly around his cock, careful to not smother him between her legs, and soon, the sweet, craved release hit him as well, making his shaft pulse maddeningly against her stretched lips. She loved when they came together like that, in each other’s mouths, as if they were a single, undivided entity. And when she abandoned his cock with a loud _pop,_ letting his seed drip from her mouth to the quick, silvery waters of their river, he made sure to give her another orgasm before going hard again and fucking her as she deserved.

He’d been right that day, back at the thermal spring: she deserved everything, and it only took seventeen years to learn that. And now she wasn’t alone anymore, thanks to a fateful meeting on the shores of the river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A palmus is around 3 inches, a little less than 8 centimeters.


End file.
